


Get Out Your Damn Umbrellas

by llamalamp



Category: Phandom/The Fantastic Foursome (YouTube RPF)
Genre: Angst, Dan Is Sweet and Smart and Strong And He Deserves To Be Happy, Difficulties With Eating, Established Relationship, Hurt/Comfort, Improper Self-Care, M/M, PTSD, Phil's Heart Is The Reason I Breathe, Rape Aftermath, Rape Recovery, Scenes From 2009, Self-Harm, Suicidal Thoughts, Suicide Attempt, Unorthodox Headcannon, slow healing process
Language: English
Status: In-Progress
Published: 2017-06-14
Updated: 2018-11-05
Packaged: 2018-11-13 21:58:34
Rating: Teen And Up Audiences
Warnings: Graphic Depictions Of Violence, Rape/Non-Con
Chapters: 10
Words: 22,357
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/11194272
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/llamalamp/pseuds/llamalamp
Summary: This fic is based on a brilliant work by wordsongs called When It Rains It Pours (which unfortunately has been deleted). There will be several plot deviations, and the text and dialogue will be quite different, but I can’t take any credit for the storyline."Phil's only gone for one weekend.Apparently that's all the time it takes for everything to fall apart."Basically this is how I imagined the story would go as an established relationship fic instead of slow burn. The result isn’t really any less painful.





	1. Chapter 1

**Author's Note:**

> 3 Things
> 
> 1) As far as I’m aware, I don’t have the skill or emotional fortitude to make this story as dark and gritty and realistic as the original, but I’ll still be working with very triggering subject matter, so please heed the tags.
> 
> 2) This takes place in 2016, but I’m not going to make any references to the book or the tour, because honestly it hurts too much.
> 
> 3) I do not claim to know anything about the inner workings of Dan and Phil’s real lives. This is merely a work of fiction, with some very unorthodox headcannon.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Mood Music: ["Lights" by Ellie Goulding (Accoustic Version)](https://www.youtube.com/watch?v=o14cRSaTtFA&spfreload=10)

Soft crackling from the loudspeaker echoed over platform 3 of London’s Euston Station as a monotone voice announced that the six o’clock train to Manchester Piccadilly would be boarding in ten minutes. A plethora of people were waiting near the tracks, some sitting impatiently amongst the cold gray benches, some lingering to bid farewell to their friends and loved ones. However, Dan and Phil required a slightly less conspicuous area to say their goodbyes before Phil’s departure to the North, namely a small stockroom in the back of Boot’s pharmacy. 

“I promise,” Phil murmured between kisses on Dan’s cheeks, eyelids, forehead, and mouth, “I’ll try to call you on Skype anytime I get the chance.”

Dan leaned away and shook his head. “Phil, you know you won’t be able to get a decent Internet connection up there. Besides, it’s your cousin’s wedding. You’ll be spending most of the weekend awkwardly interacting with your weird relatives." 

“Well, I can at least try to phone you or send a text now and then.”

“Honestly, Phil, it’s fine. I can survive three days in the apartment on my own without you checking up on me. I’m not that codependent.”

Phil’s brow furrowed in concern. There was a tinge of bitterness in Dan’s voice that Phil often heard when something was troubling the younger boy that he didn’t want to talk about. “Is everything okay, Bear?”

“No- I mean, yes,” Dan muttered, “It’s fine, I just,” he swallowed and shut his eyes tightly, “I didn’t want to worry you.”

Phil could feel the tension radiating from Dan’s body with the two of them pressed together in a small space. He linked his arms around Dan’s middle and let the boy lean against him. “Please, Dan,” he said softly. “Tell me what’s wrong.”

Dan was silent for a moment and simply let the older boy hold him. Then he exhaled slowly and whispered, “Someone posted it again.”

Now it was Phil’s turn to tense up. A small bubble of panic rose in his chest, but he tried to remain calm for Dan’s sake. “I’ll get it taken down.”

Dan sighed wearily. “What’s the point? This keeps happening over and over no matter how hard we try to stop it, so why bother?”

It broke Phil’s heart to hear Dan sound so discouraged, his energetic warrior admitting defeat. When the leak first happened and their world was thrown into chaos, it was Dan who took control of the situation, explaining away everyone’s proofs and theories and trying to deflect as much attention from their private lives as possible. Even though arguably it did more harm than good, Phil couldn’t help but adore the fact that Dan had a tendency to become the snarkiest bastard on the planet when trying to shield the people he loved. Of course there were days when Dan felt overwhelmed by it all, the constant spiral of lies and half-truths and playing off everything as a joke even when he was dying inside, but Phil was always there to wrap Dan in his arms and remind him of the truth, because that’s the way it worked with them. Dan protected Phil, and Phil protected Dan from himself.

“I’m sorry, Bear.”

Dan shrugged but held on tighter. “It’s just harder to deal with when you’re not around, because I used to be able to watch it whenever we were apart to make myself feel better, but now…” Dan sniffled as Phil gently stroked his back. “Now I can’t even see a screenshot from it without cringing, and it’s just… really depressing being constantly reminded of how the Internet managed to ruin the most beautiful thing anyone’s ever done for me.”

At this, Phil’s throat tightened. He wished they were both at home cuddled up in bed instead of standing in this godforsaken storage cupboard right before he had to leave. He didn’t have long, and there was no magical combination of words he could say to make everything all better. Still, he had to try.

Nudging his nose against Dan’s cheek, Phil spoke softly into his ear and said, “A lot of good things have come from us sharing bits of our lives with the Internet, and some really awful things have happened as well. At the end of the day, though, what matters most is who we choose to share our whole lives with. And Dan,” Phil reached up and cupped Dan’s face in both hands, “You _are_ my whole life.”

Dan stared back at him, those wide brown eyes brimming with too many emotions to read all at once. Then he rested he forehead against Phil’s, and for a moment they were both able to shut out the rest of the world. For that one small moment all that mattered was intertwining arms and intermingling breaths, soft touches and kisses and unspoken exchanges of “I love you.” At some point, however, the moment had to end.

“Phil, you need to get going,” Dan muttered, pulling away reluctantly. “The train’s gonna leave without you if you keep snogging me any longer.” 

Phil tugged him back for one more tender kiss. “I know. I just need you to promise me something.”

Dan huffed slightly. “What?” 

“Be good to yourself,” Phil whispered, his mercurial eyes searching Dan’s face. “Please?” 

Unable to hide anything under that gaze, Dan smiled sadly and whispered, “I’ll try.”

***

The lampposts had flickered on when Dan stepped back out into the wintry streets of London. He dramatically pulled up the hood of his dementor coat before making his way towards the queue of double decker busses and boarding the one that would return him to an empty apartment. His grim-reaper-esque appearance may have disturbed some of the other passengers, but Dan avoided making eye contact with anyone as he make his way to the back and found a seat in an empty row. Thankfully, no one took the seat next to him.

The fluorescent lights overheard illuminated the dark windows, but Dan pressed his forehead against the cold glass and stared at passing cars just to avoid looking at his reflection. He reached into his pocket for his phone and found that his earbuds were already plugged into it. He’d been listening to some Ludovico Einaudi earlier, but he put settings on shuffle and skipped to the next song.

In hindsight that was probably a mistake. 

After a diverse mix of rap, generic pop, and classical music, he heard the first few notes of a song he hadn’t listened to in years. Staring down at his phone in disbelief he read the title of a song from the Final Fantasy VII soundtrack.

“Fuck,” Dan muttered under his breath. As much as he wanted to, he couldn’t bring himself to press the skip button. Glancing around nervously, Dan hunched down in his seat as far as he could. God knows what people would think if they saw the weirdo in the back of the bus crying his eyes out.

With a bit of trepidation, Dan took a few deep breaths and let the soft, lighthearted melody wash over him. It had been nearly six years now, but his mind still automatically linked each chord with an image of 2010 Phil in his old bedroom speaking softly in a thick northern accent, speaking to _him_ and _only him_. It was as if the memory was playing like a filmstrip in the back of his mind. A lump formed in his throat and his eyes stung, but he let it happen. He let himself remember what it was like back when he was a sad, awkward, affection-starved teenager watching this for the first time with his heart fit to explode in his chest because he’d never felt so loved in all his life.

_He made that for me. No one else. Just me._

The bus screeched to a halt and jolted Dan out of his reverie just in time for him to notice that they were at his stop. He hastened to put away his phone and earbuds and then stood up a bit awkwardly to exit the vehicle. It was a bit of a walk back to the apartment, and his body was near frozen by the time he made it to the front step. Strangely enough, though, there was small ember of warmth glowing in his chest. He could only hope as hung up his coat and headed towards the kitchen to make a mug of hot chocolate that this little warm glow would last a while longer before the dark void of loneliness settled in its place.

It didn’t last long at all.

The fact that the kitchen light was on should have tipped him off. At first Dan thought he must have left it on when he went with Phil to the train station, but it was more likely that the switch had been flipped by one of the four men that were standing in the kitchen. There was a gun pointed at Dan’s face, and suddenly everything felt cold.

“Hello, Danny boy,” said the stranger holding the gun. “Nice of you to finally join us.”

Dan stood stock still as his heart pounded in his ears. Everything about this picture felt wrong. Clearly these men had broken in, but why? If they’d come here to steal something, they would have taken it and left by now. Instead they had been standing there for God knows how long waiting for him.

The guy who apparently considered himself in charge was shorter than the others, but he wore a haughty expression on his generically handsome normie face. The tallest stood behind him. He had long, stringy, black hair and looked like he worked in the dark basement of some tech company. The third intruder was blonde and blue-eyed with a muscular build like the type of athletic frat-boy typically featured on college brochures. The last one had an equally intimidating physique, though he appeared older and more heavy-set, and his mouth was twisted in a sadistic grin.

It seemed strange that this assortment of people would form a group, and stranger still that they would decide to band together to seek out this apartment. They knew his name, and they’d no doubt gone to a lot of trouble to find where he lived. The question remained, why? What did they want from him? After living through secondary school surrounded by verbally and physically abusive classmates, Dan recognized the look in their eyes, a look that said that they wanted to hurt him, yet something told him that they weren’t interested in just beating him up.

A bit too late, Dan took a few unsteady steps backward. All his instincts were telling him to run, but he was trapped. In his panic, he didn’t detect the movements of the heavy-set intruder until the man was behind him crushing Dan in a tight grip.

“Not trying to make a run for it, are you Daniel?” the man breathed in his ear menacingly. “We can’t have that.”

The leader stepped closer, motioning towards the rectangular lump in Dan’s pocket. Consequently, one of the thick arms entwined around Dan’s torso moved, and a hand delved roughly into his pocket and dug out Dan’s phone. The leader seized the device and smashed it against the grainy tile. Completely immobilized, Dan gave a startled jump at the sound of shattering glass, and his sense of utter helplessness intensified.

“Sorry. Necessary precaution,” the leader said carelessly, “We wouldn’t want anyone to interrupt our little session, now would we?” He redirected the gun to point at Dan’s face again. “I suppose you could say we’re big fans of yours. Not that we spend much time on YouTube. Our interests lie in a much darker corner of the web, but it’s amazing how the Internet can bring people together when they have a mutual obsession,” he lowered the gun slightly and reached up with his other hand to grip Dan’s chin, “and for a while now our main obsession has been you.”

The bruising grip changed to a caress, and that’s when Dan flinched. He heard a dark, mirthless chuckle before the hand returned, this time with a sharp slap. Pain exploded across Dan’s cheek, but before he could catch his breath, the nauseating monologue continued.

“You’re such a tease Dan Howell. Shameless sluts like you need to be taught a lesson. Surely you can’t expect to get away with flaunting that body on camera for all the world to see. Not without someone like us giving you exactly what you’re asking for.”

A viscous shove from the intruder behind him forced Dan to fall hard on all fours. His hands and knees throbbed from the impact, and he was growing dizzy from the tremendous effort his heart and lungs were making to flood his body with enough oxygen to fight or run away. Of course both options would likely end with a bullet in his skull. 

The leader handed the gun over to Tech Guy. “Now enough chit-chat. Let’s see if you can put that pretty mouth to good use.”

Dan squeezed his eyes shut at the sound of the man’s dark blue jeans being unzipped. It had been several years since he’d been in this vulnerable position, kneeling at eye-level with unfamiliar male genitals. All those times before he had gotten into that position willingly, either driven by curiosity or a desperate need to feel wanted. This was different. He wasn’t being given a choice.

_I didn’t ask for this. I don’t want it. Please, just leave me alone. I don’t want it._

His head was roughly yanked back by a hand in his hair, forcing Dan to look up at the leader, who was lazily stroking his half-erect penis. Dazed from panic and nausea, Dan couldn’t think. The silent void in his mind was deafening, save for a small voice in the back of his head, some sort of guide for his survival instincts that had been programmed into him after being threatened with bodily harm so often growing up. _Don’t talk back. Don’t fight back. Keep still and quiet, or they’ll just hurt you more._

Dan stared ahead blankly and allowed his lips to part as the leader finally invaded his mouth with a harsh thrust. They each took their turn, filling the kitchen with obscene moans and occasionally slinging some unimaginative variation of “slut” or “whore” or “bitch” while they violated him. It didn’t take long before Dan’s knees ached and his jaw was sore and his throat felt raw and bloody. Somehow the pain didn’t seem to fully register in his mind as if it had become detached from what was happening to his body. Then he heard one of them say something that brought reality sharply into focus.

“Damn, you’re good at that. It’s a shame Phil gets to keep you all to himself. Maybe he wouldn’t mind sharing once in a while.”

_Oh god, Phil_ , Dan thought numbly. How was he supposed to tell Phil what happened to him?

Dan gagged and shuddered as the last one finished, but he swallowed reflexively to avoid choking. As soon as he heard the sound of a zipper closing once more, he hunched forward and gasped for breath. He was dangerously close to throwing up or passing out. _It’s ove_ r, he told himself as the air stung his throat _. They’re going to leave soon._ _They’ve gotten what they wanted. It's over._

“I think that’s enough for now,” the leader’s voice chimed. “Let’s give him a little break. After all, we have the rest of the weekend.” 

It took a while for those words to really hit him. It was as if he had been falling for so long that he hadn’t realized how far he’d fallen until he crashed to the ground. Dan’s heart rate quickened as he heard footsteps drawing near him. A hand tangled in his hair and yanked back his head again. 

_Don’t talk back, or they’ll hurt you more._

The leader’s face loomed in front of him, leering maniacally.

_Don’t fight back, or they’ll kill you._

“Are you going to be a good boy for us, Daniel?” 

_I don’t care._

Even though the pain was excruciating, Dan hocked back as much saliva as he could and spat in the man’s face, and with all the strength he had left, Dan rasped out in a horse voice, “Fuck you.”

The man stood frozen and stared at Dan for a long time. In one deliberately slow movement he wiped off his cheek. Then he smiled.

“This is going to be even more fun than I thought it would be.”

Quick as a flash, Dan felt a blinding pain across his forehead as the man struck him with the barrel of the gun. That shiny piece of metal was the last thing Dan saw before the merciful darkness stole him away.


	2. Chapter 2

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Mood Music: ["Africa" by Toto (Cover by Howie Day)](https://www.youtube.com/watch?v=CpxPf4v0LL8&spfreload=10)

Sunday morning on the ride home to London Phil was a tense bundle of nerves. Four hours of sitting in a half-empty train car did nothing to alleviate the anxiety he’d been feeling since before he left his family’s house in Manchester at the crack of dawn. He’d packed his suitcase as quietly as possible to avoid waking the rest of his relatives while his mum stood by the door trying to convince him to catch a later train and stay a little longer.

“I’m sorry, I can’t,” Phil mumbled apologetically. “Can you tell everyone goodbye for me? I just really need to get home to Dan. I’m going out of my mind with worry.”

His mum gave him a knowing look. “That’s sweet of you, dear, but surely he’s capable of looking after himself. How much trouble could he get into in one weekend on his own?”

“I don’t know,” Phil said despondently, “but he hasn’t answered any of my texts, and I can’t help thinking something might be wrong. He was feeling really down on Friday when I left, and I just need to make sure he’s okay.”

Throwing in the towel, Mrs. Lester stepped in and helped her son pack up the rest of his things. As he was about to close the last zipper, however, she said to him, “It really would have been fine if you’d brought Dan with you.”

Phil sighed wearily, “I know that you guys wouldn’t mind me bringing him along to family get-togethers and that he’d be accepted here with open arms. It’s just,” he sat down on the bed and twisted his hands in his lap, “can you imagine how our audience would react if I brought Dan as my plus one to a wedding?”

Mrs. Lester sat down next to him and placed her hand over his. “Maybe it wouldn’t hurt to have a little more faith in people.”

Those words left Phil speechless. His mum was always right about these things, but part of him wanted to argue that it wasn’t that simple. She didn’t have a clue how bad it had been four years ago, how much some people honestly hated Dan for trying to cover everything up. To this day Dan couldn’t say anything sweet or genuine without people comparing him to their preconceived notion of 2012 Dan as this angry, insecure jerk. From the comments on social media it seemed that everyone was expecting for there to be a coming-out video on the horizon, some big, dramatic story about Dan overcoming internalized homophobia and learning to accept himself. It was a narrative that their audience had clung to for so long that at this point he and Dan weren’t sure if anyone would believe it if they told people that the truth was a bit more complicated than that.

When Phil found his voice again, it was somewhat strained “Even if we decided to tell everyone that we’re together, they’ll most likely want us explain what the heck has been going on for the last six and a half years, and we just… don’t know how.” 

“You shouldn’t have to explain anything, dear,” his mum said calmly. “Perhaps you could just be yourselves and let people think what they want.” 

Their conversation resonated in Phil’s mind for most of the journey back. He wanted to hear Dan’s thoughts on the subject, but as train drew nearer to its destination, he set that idea aside to contemplate on another day. Phil had more pressing matters to deal with, and today was certainly the wrong time to discuss any of this. 

It was the fourteenth of February. 

The v-word was rarely spoken in the Dan and Phil house. They had an agreement between them to pretend as if it was a normal day like any other. Still, every year Phil went out of his way to remind Dan that he was loved, and after long, slightly distressing separation, it was probably something they both sorely needed. 

Phil caught a taxi outside the train station. It was possible that the cabbie could tell how eager Phil was to get home, because he drove a little over the speed limit, which Phil was actually grateful for. There was a strange feeling of dread in the pit of his stomach, but Phil tried to tell himself that it was simply his overwrought anticipation to see Dan’s face again and hear his voice. The feeling grew stronger, however, when he reached the front door and found it unlocked. 

“Dan?” Phil called, hesitantly stepping inside. He was met with an eerie silence only broken by creaking of the stairs beneath his feet. There was no sign of the other boy in the office or the lounge, and Phil started to go through rationales in his head to stop himself from panicking. Maybe Dan had gone out for some reason and forgotten to lock the door. Maybe he was hiding in his bedroom waiting to jumpscare Phil at any moment. He barely managed to calm his frazzled nerves when the sight of the kitchen door stopped him in his tracks. It was covered in dirty handprints. Phil looked through the filthy plane of glass and felt panic grip his heart like an iron fist when he saw the shattered remains of Dan’s phone lying on the kitchen floor.

The next few minutes were a blur. Phil stumbled around the flat screaming Dan’s name at the top of his lungs and searching everywhere, even the places he’d already looked. His head spun as he reached his bedroom door and was met with a coppery scent that could only be one thing: _blood_.

_Oh God, no. Please no, please no, please-_

The room was in shambles, the bed sheets were drenched in garish red, and Dan was lying on the mattress, unmoving, his eyes wide open.

All the breath left Phil’s lungs as he fell back against the wall. _No, no, no, no, no, oh God no, this can’t be happening, please, this can’t be happening._ He struggled to get up and managed to crawl towards the mangled, lifeless form on the bed. Dan’s face and neck were badly bruised, and there was a deep gash on his forehead. The iron fist around Phil’s heart clenched tighter, crushing the life out of him. “Dan,” Phil choked out, his hands shaking uncontrollably as he reached up to touch the boy’s cheek.

Suddenly he felt a small puff of air against his fingertips, and in an instant Phil regained the ability to breathe. _He’s alive, he’s alive, he’s alive, oh thank God_. “Dan,” he called again, still getting no response. “Dan, it’s me. It’s okay. You’re-” Phil gulped for air as his chest heaved, “you’re going to be okay. I’m gonna get help.”

Berating himself for not doing it sooner, Phil got out his phone and dialed 999. His heart rate quickened with each trill of the dial tone, and by the time the operator picked up he could barely speak.

“Please help me,” Phil half-shouted into the phone before the operator could even ask what the emergency was. “I don’t know what happened to him. I don’t…” there were signs he should have picked up on by now, the marks around Dan’s wrists, the amount of blood on his inner thighs, the fact that he was naked, but Phil couldn’t bear to piece any of it together. “There’s so much blood and I keep calling his name but he won’t answer and I don’t know-”

“Alright, sir, I need you to remain calm,” a woman’s voice intoned at the other end of the line. “We have your location, and we’re sending an ambulance. I just need you to take a few deep breaths and describe the scene to me. Is the victim conscious?”

He knew she was trying to help, but hearing her call him that made Phil’s stomach clench. “His name is Dan.”

“Okay,” the woman responded, her voice softening. “Is Dan showing any signs of consciousness?”

“I think so, I mean-” Phil inhaled slowly and tried to focus. “His eyes are open, and he’s breathing, but I don’t think he knows I’m here.”

“He may be in shock. If he becomes more alert, don’t give him anything to eat or drink. Just try to keep him as comfortable as possible until the paramedics arrive.”

Phil managed to squeak out a “thank you” before hanging up. He shivered slightly and finally took notice of how cold the room was. Dan must have been freezing. Phil crawled over to the antique chest at the foot of the bed and pulled out a blanket. That was what you were supposed to do for people in shock, right? Put a blanket on them? Trying not to look too long at all the horrifying bruises and cuts covering Dan’s body, Phil threw the blanket over him. Then as he tugged the blanket over his shoulders, he saw Dan’s body jolt slightly at the contact.

“Dan?” Phil whispered, his voice edged with hope now. The wide brown eyes fluttered for a moment, but instead of looking back at him, they immediately clamped shut. Dan inhaled a shaky breath and grew tense and still as if he was bracing himself for more abuse. “Dan, it’s okay. It’s me.”

After a frighteningly long time, Dan finally opened his eyes and gasped out in a wrecked voice, “Phil?”

Phil covered his mouth and swallowed back a sob. He couldn’t let himself break down now. “Yeah, it’s me. You’re safe now, okay? I’m here.”

Dan stared back at him, his battered face etched with fear and pain. Phil extended his hand again to try to comfort him, but Dan turned away and hid his face against the pillows. He curled in on himself under the blanket, his arms wrapped protectively around his stomach. Phil tried to speak again, but then he heard it. Muffled cries were resonating from Dan’s throat, noises you would expect to hear from a frightened, wounded animal. It was the most achingly sad sound Phil had ever heard.

“Dan it’s alright,” Phil stammered, unable to hold it together any longer. “The ambulance will be here any minute. Just hold on. Please, just hold on.” He couldn’t tell if Dan even understood what he was saying. Every slight touch or softly spoken word caused Dan to shrink away as if he was trying to hide from him.

_He knows it’s me. Why is he acting like he’s afraid of me? Who did this to him?_

It was almost more alarming when Dan grew quiet, his ragged breathing the only indication that he was still clinging to life. Phil laid his head on the mattress as close to the traumatized boy as he dared, tears trickling down his face onto the ruined bed sheets. The long, tortuous delay before the paramedics arrived felt like a morbid reenactment of Jack and Rose adrift in the Atlantic ocean, half-frozen to death, waiting for help to come.

Everything felt cold.

Phil barely noticed the blaring sirens and the sound of footsteps thundering up the stairs, but he sensed Dan shudder beside him. Next thing he knew, people were pouring into the room, and a strong pair of hands dragged him away from the bed. One of the paramedics held Phil back as the other two lifted away the blanket revealing Dan’s mutilated body. They were attempting to turn Dan over to inspect his injuries when Dan cried out again, struggling weakly to keep his limbs curled up against his stomach.

“Sir, we’re not trying to hurt you,” said the female paramedic gripping Dan’s shoulder. “We’re here to help. We just need to-” she stopped abruptly the moment they managed to roll Dan onto his side. “Jesus fucking Christ.”

Phil’s knees buckled under him and would have hit the carpet if it weren’t for the paramedic holding him up. He couldn’t see anything that was happening, but the shock in the other paramedic’s voice made him feel sick.

_Oh God, what did they do to him?_

The third paramedic snapped at her partner that they needed to move the victim quickly. They instructed Dan to take deep, slow breaths, but at that point he was hyperventilating.

“Dan,” Phil called desperately. “It’s okay, just breathe, you need to breathe.”

It was too late. Dan was unconscious by they time they managed to transfer him onto the gurney and strap him in. After noting aloud something about blood loss and a possible concussion they silently carried him away.

Phil had no recollection of walking down the forty-seven steps out of their apartment, but soon enough he was standing on the street in front of the ambulance. Dan had disappeared inside the vehicle, and the paramedics were climbing inside and preparing to depart. One of them noticed Phil walking forward and raised a hand to stop him.

“Sir, what is your relationship to the victim?”

It was a question Phil should have been able to answer quickly, and one that needed to be answered quickly, but he was completely paralyzed in the face of it. So many times he had dreamed up imaginary scenarios where they were able to tell random strangers who they really were to each other.

Never, not even in his worst nightmares, had he imagined anything like this.

Phil opened his mouth, but his throat constricted and his eyes blurred with tears. Thankfully, though, the paramedic didn’t have to look at him for long before she apparently understood. “It’s alright,” she said, beckoning him. “You can ride with us.”

The siren blared at a deafening volume as the ambulance took off down the busy London streets. Phil was jostled by each sharp turn, but he gripped his seat with only one hand and placed one protectively on the gurney. Apart from the dark bruises, Dan looked terribly pale under the garish orange shock blanket that the paramedics had laid over him. They bustled around the tiny space checking Dan’s blood pressure and monitoring his heart rate. Phil had to basically shout over the commotion when he asked, “Can I hold his hand?”

They all looked at him briefly and a bit uncomfortably, but one of them gave him a short nod. Ignoring their discomfort, Phil leaned forward and took Dan’s hand in his. The action required him to remain tilted at a slightly awkward angle to avoid putting strain on the straps around the boy’s shoulders. That didn’t stop Phil from being able to look up at the computer monitor tracking Dan’s vital signs. Today’s date was displayed in the top right-hand corner, and Phil felt a sharp pang in his chest when he remembered.

It was the fucking fourteenth of February.

Another abrupt turn rocked the speeding vehicle’s interior, but Phil clung tightly to Dan’s limp arm, pressing the palm of his hand against his own chest. He knew logically that Dan wasn’t able to feel his heartbeat, but it seemed as though Phil’s heart was still trying valiantly to reach him, to tell him, _I love you, I love you, l love you_.

_I love you so much._


	3. Chapter 3

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Mood Music: ["Blood" by My Chemical Romance](https://www.youtube.com/watch?v=uX3Gw82f6GU&spfreload=10)

Dan was not ready to return to the land of the living when the edge of consciousness crept up on him. At the first twinge of pain, his mind immediately locked itself in a self-protective state, unwilling to process whatever came next. It didn’t escape his notice, however, that he was lying on his back, which left him with a disturbing sense of vulnerability. His chest felt waterlogged as his heart picked up a faster rhythm, and his limbs were heavy and uncooperative, but somehow he managed to turn over and tuck one arm under his stomach. Unfamiliar sensations tugged at his mind, but he continued to block them out. That was until he heard a voice say his name.

“Morning, Mr. Howell. How are you feeling?”

It was a female voice. The tone was light and friendly, but it startled him enough to open his eyes. A woman in light blue scrubs stood a few feet from the narrow cot Dan was lying on. Beams of light streamed through the blinds and streaked the austere walls as well as the stark white curtain that hung where the door should be. Soft beeping from machinery echoed in the corner of what was quite discernibly, a hospital room.

Upon this realization the floodgates finally opened, and Dan’s mind was overtaken by memories of what he’d woken up to the last few time he’d regained consciousness. He saw their faces looming over him, felt their rough hands grabbing, hitting, choking, forcing, holding him down, heard their voices taunting him as his body was wracked with pain over and over and over. Nothing could make it stop. Crying and begging just spurned them on, made them take more and more pleasure in hurting him-

“Please Mr. Howell, I need you to take slow, deep breaths.” The woman, most likely a nurse, had positioned herself right by his bedside and was staring at him with mild alarm. “You’re in hospital. You’re safe. No one is trying to hurt you. Deep breaths, now, in through the nose and out through the mouth.”

As Dan’s mind slowly cleared, his first coherent thought was _Dan, get a grip. You’re making this person feel awkward_. He struggled to follow the nurse’s instructions, but with each deep inhalation his throat burned and his chest ached.

“There you go, that’s it,” the nurse said, giving him an encouraging smile that did little to mask the pity in her expression. She glanced nervously at the machine tracking his vital signs until they gradually stabilized. “Alright, then. Let’s see what we can do to help you feel more comfortable. Is there anything I can get for you?”

Dan knew without even making an attempt that his throat hurt too much at the moment to produce speech. Of all the languages he’d taken an interest in learning, sign language was the one he’d made the least progress in, but there were still a few words and phrases that he remembered. With no other method available to communicate what he needed, he made the “w” sign with three stiff fingers and tapped his index finger against his chapped lips.

The nurse appeared confused for a moment, but then her face lit up in recognition. “Oh, would you like some water?” After an awkward pause, the nurse walked behind the curtain and returned with a small rolling tray table carrying a stack of plastic cups and a pitcher of water. “It’d probably be best if you could sit up at bit,” she said, pouring a cup and holding it out for him.

There was an IV line taped to the inside of Dan’s right arm, the one he was half lying on. Still, he used his useless arm to push himself up from the bed and kept his left arm braced against his torso. His heart rate spiked again as he tried to sit up and was met with sharp stabs of pain from the numerous stitches under his thin, papery hospital gown being tugged by the movement. He became acutely aware of all the places where his body had been torn open and sewn back together, specifically his back and stomach and between his legs. The implications of theses sensations made him feel dizzy and weak.

In a well-meaning gesture, the nurse brought the cup closer and was possibly going to try to pour it into his mouth for him, but Dan jolted violently and ended up knocking the cup out of her hand. Even though the reaction was involuntary, he immediately regretted it. He glanced up at the nurse and tried to wordlessly apologize, but he must have simply looked frightened, because she apologized instead.

“Sorry, sorry. Didn’t mean to startle you like that,” she muttered, fumbling frantically to grab another cup from the stack. “It’s alright. We can try that again.”

This time she held out the drink for him to take and gently guided his trembling hand towards his lips. The water was blessedly cold against his aching throat, and he gulped it down quickly, prompting the nurse to pour him another cup. After the second, Dan collapsed back against the mattress from sheer exhaustion as the nurse set about mopping up the water that had spilled on the floor. Then when she took the empty cup from him, Dan managed to whisper in a feeble voice, “Thank you.”

The nurse’s face softened. “You’re quite welcome, dear. It’s my job.” She watched somewhat sadly as Dan slowly rearranged his sore limbs and curled up in the fetal position once more. Clearing her throat, she looked down at the clipboard lying on the table next to him and took on a more clinical tone. “It says here that your last dose of morphine was administered roughly three hours ago, and so in about another hour I’ll check to see if you need a bit more. Now that you’re awake, the attending physician will stop by at some point today to discuss your treatment and answer any medical questions you may have. Also, two officers from Scotland Yard are here to take your statement. That is,” she said cautiously, “if you’re feeling up to it. They’ve already spoken with your, um, partner-”

“Phil?” Dan interjected, his heart thudding in his chest.

“Yes. Mr. Lester,” the nurse answered affirmatively. “He’s been here since you were admitted yesterday afternoon.”

“How is he?”

It was probably more than a bit unusual for patients to ask about the wellbeing of their visitors, and the nurse hesitated to reply. “He’s a persistent one. Our staff has told him several times that we would notify him as soon as you woke up, but he still keeps asking about you.”

More hazy images surfaced in Dan’s mind from his last experience with regaining consciousness, the most vivid of which was the expression on Phil’s face as the other boy kneeled by the bed trying to comfort him. He looked so heartbroken. Dan nearly sobbed at the memory, not to mention the pervading question that followed.

How much had Phil seen?

The nurse detected that Dan was on the verge of tears, and naturally her response was, “You can see him now if you’d like. I’ll go get him.”

When she returned, she was accompanied by a tall, haggard figure about as pale as the bleached curtains behind them. The nurse pulled up a chair by Dan’s bedside and beckoned the other boy to take a seat, which was good thinking on her part, because Phil seemed quite unsteady on his feet at the moment. He rushed to sit down with his shoulders hunched and eyes on the floor, his body language sending mixed messages saying he was quite eager but also terrified to finally be here in this room.

“I suppose I’ll leave you two for a bit,” the nurse said briskly, stepping backwards towards the exit. “If you need anything I’ll be at the nurses’ station right down the hall.”

They were alone for a few minutes before Phil worked up the courage to say something, though his strained voice was barely audible. “How are you feeling?” He winced and pressed a hand against his forehead. “Sorry…I mean-”

“It’s okay,” Dan murmured hoarsely. His breathing stuttered in his chest every few words. “That’s the first…question the nurse asked me. Apparently it’s…a perfectly…reasonable question to ask someone who’s… lying in a hospital bed.”

Phil didn’t look reassured, but he still did seem to want an answer. Those radioactive blue eyes were searching him the way they tended to do when Phil knew Dan was hurting, as if by taking it all in he could somehow take the pain away, but this time it was far too much. Dan couldn’t tell him the truth, that at the moment he felt like that shredded bit of Voldemort’s soul from the second Deathly Hallows movie, an ugly, pathetic, mutilated lump of flesh waiting to die.

“The morphine that… they gave me… seems to be working.”

“Good, um, that’s good," Phil mumbled nervously, "though you probably need to be careful with how much morphine you ask for, you know, slow circulatory system and all that.”

The possibility of getting stoned out of his mind on legally administered opiates actually sounded rather tempting.

“Can I get you anything? Do you want me to call your parents?”

“I’ve never… listed them as… emergency contacts… for good reason. I don’t want… anyone else here… just you.”

Phil swallowed, his eyes growing wide at the mention of his presence being wanted. “Okay,” he said softly. “I’m not going anywhere, okay?” Slowly, the gangly boy slid out of the chair and lowered himself onto the hard-scrubbed floor. There he was on his knees silently seeking permission to be as close to him as possible even as Dan struggled to comprehend how Phil could stand to even look at him. Still, he tilted up his bruised face as Phil tentatively reached out and lightly brushed his fingers along Dan’s temple. “I’m not going anywhere,” Phil repeated, his voice steadier now.

The mere contact of Phil’s soft, gentle hands against his face brought such relief that for a moment Dan forgot what a horrifying piece of human wreckage he was. Without thinking, he whispered, “I missed you.”

It was devastating how quickly those words caused Phil to break. Dan grasped weakly at the back of Phil’s neck trying calm him, but soon enough Phil’s breathing hitched and his face crumpled. “I’m sorry, I’m so sorry. I should’ve known something was wrong. I should’ve-”

“Don’t,” Dan choked out. “Don’t you dare…blame yourself. You’ve done…all you can for me, alright?” He cradled Phil’s tear-stained face all the while keeping his left arm braced against his stomach. “I’m going to be fine. We’re…we’re going to be fine.”

Phil took a shaky breath and nodded, leaning into Dan’s touch. The fact that Phil believed him answered the question in the back of Dan’s mind. Apparently Phil hadn’t seen everything.

A rustling of the curtains signified that their private moment had been cut short as the nurse reappeared looking a bit flustered. “Oh, um, sorry to interrupt, but these officers would like to know if you’re ready to speak with them now.”

Despite years of being conditioned to pull away from each other when approached by other people, neither of them moved an inch, though Phil sensed the shudder that went through Dan’s body at the prospect of being questioned by the police about what happened to him. Phil took hold of the pale, clammy hand that was pressed against his cheek and asked, “Is it alright if I stay?”

Dan closed his eyes and exhaled slowly. “Let’s just… get this over with.”


	4. Chapter 4

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Mood Music: excruciating silence

Phil had returned to his place in the bedside chair by the time the officers stepped into the room, though he was still holding Dan’s hand like a lifeline. The boy watched warily from a downward angle as they entered the room and solemnly introduced themselves. One of them was a policewoman, Officer Delaney, who stood about a foot shorter than the stone-faced man beside her, Sergeant Braxton. Having already met them, Phil was a bit anxious about how this encounter would play out.

When they were interviewing Phil early that morning, Officer Delaney had been patient and considerate, allowing him to take his time and occasionally giving him a reassuring pat on the arm. She even offered to get him a cup of coffee, something he was in desperate need of after spending all night hunched in the corner of the waiting room sobbing his heart out. The sergeant, on the other hand, appeared to disapprove of her tendency to show compassion to the victim’s loved ones and was only interested in getting as much information out of him as possible.

In Phil’s opinion, Delaney’s emotional intuition made her better at her job. For instance, she took notice of how Dan glanced nervously at the pair of handcuffs attached to the sergeant’s utility belt and also how he flinched when Sergeant Braxton crossed his arms. Delaney turned to him and muttered, “If you want to go check up on forensics, sir, I believe I’m quite capable of handling this part on my own.”

The sergeant probably wasn’t in the habit of taking suggestions from his subordinates, but he seemed relieved to not have to sit through this. He nodded gruffly in agreement and left the room without a word.

With the atmosphere only slightly less tense than before, Officer Delaney pulled up a chair near the lower right corner of the bed and sat at an angle so she could communicate with both of them from a respectful distance. When she addressed Dan, her tone was warm and friendly, but not at all patronizing.

“As you’re probably aware by now, my team and I are currently in the process of investigating the attack that occurred in your home. We’ve gathered plenty evidence from the crime scene, but the most vital part of this investigation is your statement.” She reached into the front pocket of her uniform to take out a pen and a small notebook. “Is it okay if I ask you a few questions?”

Dan’s fingers were beginning to feel numb from the strange position his right arm was lying in. He tried to adjust his shoulder in order to redirect circulation to his cold, deadened hand, but even that small movement made him whimper. Phil’s hand tightened around his in response, and Dan gazed up at him. Three days, three days of being abused and tortured and dehumanized, was a long time, long enough to forget how it felt to have someone look at him like that, like he was that person’s whole world. It shouldn’t have hurt this much.

“Sure,” Dan finally answered, the emotion constricting his throat causing the pain to worsen. “Go ahead.”

“Alright, then,” the policewoman said calmly, “Let’s start from the beginning. According to Mr. Lester, he was returning from a trip to see his family in Manchester on Sunday morning, and the last time he was with you prior to that was Friday evening at Euston Station before he got on the train. Can you tell me what happened after you left the train station?”

“I…got on the bus… to go home.” Dan’s gaze was still locked on Phil as if they were the only two people in the room and this conversation was just between them. “When I got back…to the apartment…there were four men…standing in the kitchen.”

Officer Delaney asked Dan to describe them, and Phil sensed him beginning to slip away. As the boy mechanically listed random features of the people who hurt him, those wide brown eyes became glassy and unfocused. It was a telltale sign that Dan was lost in in the darkest depths of his mind, and Phil didn’t know how to pull him out.

“Did you recognize these men at all?”

“No… I don’t… think so. Well… one of them… his voice sounded familiar... but, I’m not… sure from where.” Dan spoke slowly, but his breath quickened. “They knew… who I was. They… said something … about my videos… YouTube videos, I mean… that I flaunted too much… on camera… and that they needed… to teach me a lesson.”

“What did they do next?”

“They had... a gun… pointed at me… and one of them… pushed me to the floor…” Dan’s faint voice trailed off, his whole body growing tense.

“Please, Mr. Howell,” Delaney said earnestly. “I need you to tell me what they did.”

“I’m sorry… I don’t… I don’t think I can… do this right now.” He swallowed with difficulty and closed his eyes. “It just… really hurts to talk.”

Delaney glanced at the computer monitor where the numbers measuring Dan’s heart rate were steadily climbing. She was about to close her notebook when Phil spoke up.

“Could you, um, maybe ask questions with yes or no answers?” Phil asked. Receiving a nod from the officer, he leaned closer to Dan and whispered. “You can squeeze my hand once for yes, twice for no. Would that be better?”

When Dan opened his eyes again, they were immediately drawn back to Phil’s. “Yeah, that’s fine.”

Delaney briefly scanned over her previous notes and continued. “The marks around your wrists appear to be from extended use of restraints. Were you handcuffed during the attack?”

Dan squeezed his hand once, and Phil quietly voiced the answer. “Yes.”

“They also held a gun on you?”

One squeeze. “Yes.”

“Did they use any other means to threaten or intimidate you or try to prevent you from talking to the police?”

The boy seemed to hesitate for a moment before squeezing Phil’s hand twice. “No.”

Officer Delaney registered the delay, but she moved on. “You were admitted to the hospital with a minor head wound, multiple contusions, and severe lacerations on your back and stomach. There’s clear evidence of torture, but for the record we need confirmation. Did these men torture you?”

“Yes.”

“Some of your injuries also indicate sexual assault.” A hint of sadness crept into the policewoman’s voice before she asked the next question. “Did they force you to engage in non-consensual oral sex?”

“Yes.”

“Penetrative sex?”

“Yes.”

“They raped you?”

Phil had to cover his mouth to stifle the whimpering noise trapped in his throat. He kept his eyes fixed on Dan and braced himself for the answer, but a look of anguish had crossed over Dan’s face, and he was breathing raggedly.

“Please… don’t look at me like that,” Dan gasped in a strangled voice. “Please.”

Phil didn’t understand what he was doing wrong. “I’m sorry,” he whispered, leaning down and pressing gentle kisses against Dan’s fingers. “I’m so sorry.”

Dan didn’t seem able to meet his gaze any longer. He simply stared blankly ahead and grew deathly still like he had when Phil first found him. Phil held his breath until he felt Dan squeeze his hand once more.

“Yes.”

A rustle of pages disrupted the painful silence as Officer Delaney closed her notebook. “I’ll leave my card with you incase you want to provide more details later. We have enough now to file a report. There’s just one more order of business I need to discuss with you.” Even as she said this, her professional demeanor softened. “It’s usually at this point during a sex crime investigation that a medical examination is performed, but given the choice, many people in your situation decide against being examined. I’ll be honest with you. It can be quite scary and painful undergoing an invasive procedure like this, especially after such a traumatic experience.”

“The truth is that acts this violent are usually repeated. It’s our job to keep you safe, and in order to do that we need to use every resource at our disposal to catch these bastards.” Delaney leaned forward with her elbows on her knees. “The hospital has well-trained staff on hand to perform the procedure, and they will do their upmost to protect your privacy and to make you as comfortable as possible. That being said, it’s your decision. Are you willing to be examined?”

“Yes.”

Phil hadn’t expected to receive an answer so quickly, but he supposed that Dan merely wanted the interview to come to an end as soon as possible. Officer Delaney thanked him for talking with her, and, as promised, she gave them her card before leaving to notify the hospital staff that their patient had consented to the examination. Dan and Phil were left alone again.

Phil rested his forehead against their intertwined hands and took a shaky breath. Then when he looked up, he realized that Dan was studying him.

“Phil,” Dan said quietly. “Your contacts… how long…have you had them in?”

“Um, probably a bit too long, but they aren’t bothering me that much.” They were actually bothering him a lot, but now wasn’t the time to complain about his own discomfort.

“There’s probably… someplace here where… you can get… contact solution and stuff. You should… take them out for a bit… give your eyes a rest.”

“The nurses might be here any minute to-”

“It’s okay,” Dan whispered. “You don’t have to… stay for this part.”

Phil got the message. It stung a bit knowing that apparently Dan felt it would be easier to go through this ordeal without him there. Still, if that was what was necessary to make Dan more comfortable, then Phil would respect his wishes. He gently squeezed Dan’s hand and responded, “I’ll be right outside if you need me.”


	5. Chapter 5

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Mood music: ["Hide and Seek" by Imogen Heap](https://www.youtube.com/watch?v=Y4OLQB7ON9w&pbjreload=10)

Letting go of Phil’s hand was harder than Dan thought it would be. The second that the other boy left the room, he grasped desperately at the woolen blankets for comfort. It hardly made up for Phil’s absence, but Phil couldn’t be here while this was happening, while strangers strip-searched his body for evidence of what was done to him.

The entire process took hours. Even though Dan technically had already given verbal consent, the first step involved signing a bunch of consent forms while one of the two nurses in dark teal scrubs explained the procedure to him. There was a faint ringing in his ears, and he couldn’t seem to focus on anything that was being said. He simply stared down at the rough abrasions on his left wrist and tried to keep his hand steady as he wrote a shaky signature above each line labeled “rape victim.”

Along with various supplies for evidence collection, the nurses had wheeled in a portable exam table padded with beige vinyl cushions. The moment he was asked to stand up, Dan could sense that the morphine was beginning to wear off. Unable to make eye contact, he kept his shoulders hunched and his head bowed low as he rose unsteadily to his feet and crossed the short distance from the bed to the table. The nurses hovered close incase he collapsed, but they didn’t lay a hand on him until it was necessary.

Dan sat on the edge of the table as the nurses set to work, starting with what were supposed to be the “least invasive” steps of the examination. Still, everything felt like an invasion, from fingernail scrapings to oral swabs to having the diameter of each of his injuries measured, at least the ones not hidden by his hospital gown. They hadn’t asked him to take it off yet. For a while Dan managed to stay still and keep control of breathing, but then he saw one of the nurses bring out something that made him nearly fall off of the table.

The nurse lowered the camera when she saw his reaction. “Mr. Howell?” she said cautiously. “Taking photographic evidence is a standard part of the procedure. No one will have access to these pictures unless they are used for criminal investigation or litigation purposes.” 

Dan was trembling all over, his eyes tightly closed and his arms wrapped around his stomach.

“You have the option of skipping this step. Also, if at any time you decide you don’t want to continue the examination, you can choose to say stop, and it will stop.” She waited until Dan’s stress levels decreased slightly. “Do you want to continue?”

The words “no” and “please stop” whirled around in Dan’s head, making him feel dizzy. Too many times he had screamed those words and had been ignored. All Dan could do was shakily nod his head, his eyes still closed. 

Dan heard clicking sounds and saw bright flashes from behind his eyelids as pictures were taken of the marks and bruises on his legs, arms, face, and neck. A gloved hand tugged the thin material of the hospital gown away from his shoulders and exposed his heavily scarred back. Then after a few more clicks, he was asked to stand up again, and Dan knew what was going to happen next. They needed to remove the hospital gown completely in order to photograph the rest of his injuries. Shame weighed heavily in the pit of his stomach, but he complied. Something in the back of his mind told him that it was too dangerous not to.

He stood still as the only thing covering his body was slowly pulled off of him, but before the next few clicks, both of his arms moved instinctively to hide his stomach again. Several more photos were taken from the back. Then when the nurse walked around to face him, she said quietly, “Sir, I’ll need you to keep both arms at your sides. Do you think you could do that for me?”

When Dan finally lowered his arms, the nurse nearly dropped the camera. A loud smack resonated from the other nurse slapping a hand over her mouth in shock. Unbidden tears welled up in Dan’s eyes, but he bit his lip and stared down at his feet. 

_Don’t cry. Don’t you dare let them see you cry. They’ll use it against you._

Logically Dan knew where he was and what was happening, but the echoes of his survival instincts were playing like a broken record in his mind, the part that continued to perceive danger from the faces and voices of people who weren’t there.

Once the last of the photos were taken, they turned off the lights and took out a UV light to check every inch of his skin for traces of DNA. This part took the longest, and by the time it was over Dan was swaying on the spot trying desperately not to pass out. A hand on his shoulder gently guided him back to the exam table. He was too exhausted to flinch away from it.

The examination wasn’t over yet. There was still the final step, the most invasive one. They asked him to lie down on his stomach, but Dan made no movement to comply. He hunched in on himself and shuddered, sickened by just the thought of being penetrated, even as part of a medical procedure.

“Mr. Howell,” one of the nurses said gently, “you’ve done incredibly well so far, but this part is quite difficult for most patients. It usually helps to have someone with you for support.” Dan looked up at her, his eyes brimming with tears. “If you would like, we can bring Mr. Lester back in.” 

A small whimper escaped Dan’s throat. “Please, I don’t… I don’t want him to see this,” he sobbed quietly. “Please.”

“Alright, dear, it’s alright,” the nurse murmured, “as long as you’re sure. Just let us know if you’re ready to continue.”

Dan simply turned and lied facedown on the exam table. A sheet was draped over his back to create some sort of illusion of privacy, though he still was able to feel hands moving over his bare skin. 

“This may cause a bit of discomfort,” a soft voice spoke from above him. “Tell us if it gets to be too much.” 

Dan's body tensed, his heart rate quickening. _They don’t care that you want it to stop. They don’t care that it hurts. They don’t care-_

A sharp pain tore through him. Tears streamed silently down his face as Dan clenched his mouth shut and struggled to keep quiet, but he could still hear the sound his own screams reverberating inside his head.

 

***

 

The rough cinderblock wall was cold against Phil’s back as he sat in the hallway outside Dan’s room. On the floor next to him was a small bottle of contact solution that he’d acquired from the gift shop downstairs. It had come packaged with a spare contact case, which currently stored the small pieces of plastic that enabled him to see. Phil closed his eyes, feeling as though he’d spent the last twenty-four hours completely in the dark. 

Surrounded by the soft hum of hospital noises drifting through the hall, the shrill sound of Phil’s mobile ringing startled him. He let it go to voicemail, but hardly a minute passed before it started ringing again. Reaching blindly into his pocket, he dug out the device and squinted at the screen. With the phone inches from his face, he could just barely make out the caller ID. It was Martyn.

Phil pressed the answer button and held the phone up to his ear, but he couldn’t seem to get his voice to work. 

“Phil, are you there?” a panicked voice asked at the other end of the line.

He swallowed and muttered, “Yeah, I’m here. What’s going on?”

“That’s what I was calling to ask you. Everyone’s freaking out because you didn’t do a liveshow last night. I mean, a lot of people were expecting you to make up some kind of excuse for missing it since yesterday was-”

“I know.” 

His brother paused awkwardly. “So, um, are you okay?”

“I’m fine,” Phil said a bit too quickly. He’d never been a very good liar.

“You don’t sound fine.” As he said this, a gurney came trundling past Phil in the hallway steered by shouting nurses. Martyn obviously heard the commotion from his end of the line. “Where are you?”

“I’m in the hospital,” Phil finally choked out, “with Dan.” 

“Oh my God, is he okay?” Martyn asked with renewed alarm. “What happened?”

The back of Phil’s head thudded against the wall. “I’m sorry, I can’t,” he said hoarsely, “I can’t go into it right now.”

“Phil, I’m your brother. Please, talk to me. Is Dan going to be okay?”

That was a good question. Phil didn’t know the answer.

“The doctors said that I can take him home in a couple of days,” Phil muttered, his voice hollow. “I’ll let you know when we get back. There’s some stuff I need to discuss with you.”

Martyn sighed. “Well, in the meantime, just call me if you need anything. Okay?”

“Okay.”

“I mean it. I’m here for you. Both of you.” 

Tears welled up in Phil’s eyes, but he was too exhausted to cry anymore. “Thanks. Love you.” 

“Love you too.”

Phil hung up quickly and pressed he palms against his eyelids. He wasn’t sure what he was going to say to Martyn once he got the chance to speak with him in person, but right now he wished his brother were here to hug him and tell him that everything was going to be okay. Even though he’d been looking forward to bringing Dan home, he knew that returning to their flat wouldn’t mean returning to their normal lives.

Officer Delaney’s words weighed heavily on Phil’s mind, especially the part when she said, “…acts this violent are usually repeated,” implying that they might come back and hurt him again. This wasn’t over, not while those monsters were still roaming free. Phil was certain of one thing. No matter how long it took, he could not and would not leave Dan alone again until he knew that he was safe.

Phil’s eyes stung a bit less than before when he put his contact lenses back in, though he still wished he’d brought his glasses with him. They were tucked away in his suitcase back at the apartment, which was probably now sectioned off with crime scene tape. He wearily got to his feet and approached the door to Dan’s room just as he noticed the nurse in light blue scrubs emerge from the doorway. She saw him drawing near and gave him a small smile.

“Is it okay for me to go back in there?” Phil asked.

The nurse hesitated. “Um, I’m sure that’s fine, but I’m afraid he won’t be very responsive for a while. He asked for the highest dose of morphine that we’re allowed to give him.”

“Oh God,” Phil murmured, his heart sinking as he rushed inside and found Dan curled up in the fetal position, his eyes wide and vacant. Phil stood still and listened to the soft beeps from Dan’s heart monitor. _He’s still here_ , Phil reminded himself. He hadn’t lost him… not yet.

“Dan?” he called quietly. Both of Dan’s arms were buried under the blankets, and so Phil couldn’t reach for his hand. “Blink once if you can hear me.”

Slowly, both of Dan’s eyes closed and opened again.

“Is it, um… is it alright if I lie down next to you?”

Again, Dan blinked once.

Phil shivered slightly in the chilly room as he slowly walked around to the other side of the bed and climbed under the blankets. The nurse must have added a few more woolen layers to the bed, but Dan’s body still felt cold. Phil latched an arm over the boy’s shoulder and snuggled close to keep him warm. For a moment he thought that Dan was drifting to sleep. Then he gave a start when he heard a small, scared, faraway voice call his name from right beside him.

“Phil?”

“I’m here,” Phil whispered, nestling his head against Dan’s shoulder. “What is it, Bear?”

High out of his mind on pain medication, Dan took a disturbingly long time to respond.

“Everything hurts.”


	6. Chapter 6

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Hey :) sorry for the long wait. A lot of stuff has happened since I last updated, particularly the video Dan posted where he opened up about his experiences with depression (I legit cried I was so proud). There were times when I wasn't sure how I felt about writing fanfic involving mental health issues and real people, but I think it's important to maintain clear boundaries between fantasy and reality. Plus, one of the reasons I started writing this is to work through my own mental health issues. Anyways, thanks for sticking around.
> 
> Mood music: ["World Spins Madly On" by The Weepies](https://www.youtube.com/watch?v=ApInErMBGbA)

“That’ll be twelve pound fifty, mate.”

Phil looked through the foggy windows of the cab and saw their apartment building looming in the dark street. Dan had finally been discharged from the hospital around four o’clock in the afternoon, but the gathering storm clouds overhead made it seem like nighttime already. The rainfall had started on the ride home, large drops pattering against windows and refracting light from passing streetlamps. Phil thought they looked like halos. It was one of those little things that he usually tried to find happiness in and sometimes point out to Dan as well in hopes of cheering him up, to which the other boy typically responded by shaking his head and calling Phil a dork in a soft, fond voice.

The cabbie cleared his throat. “Well, er, this is the right place, isn’t it?”

Phil tore his eyes away from the streetlamps glimmering outside his window. “Yeah, sorry,” Phil muttered apologetically. “This is us.”

He glanced over at Dan, who was sitting hunched in the corner with his forehead pressed against the glass. Dan had spent the whole ride home staring out the window, but those wide brown eyes didn’t seem to really take anything in. Phil doubted he would have gotten a response if he’d mentioned anything about the halos. Dan had hardly spoken a word for the past two days.

“Dan,” Phil called softly. “We’re home.”

The boy didn’t say anything to this. He simply tugged at the hood of his coat to keep his face hidden and continued to stare out the window. Phil’s heart suddenly gave a sharp twinge. Was Dan ashamed of the bruises?

A muffled cough from the cabbie made Phil snap back to attention. “I don't mean to rush you,” the man said in a gruff voice, “but the fuel gage is running low.”

“Right, sorry,” Phil muttered apologetically. He fumbled for his wallet and handed over the money quickly. Then he reached down to grab the brightly coloured umbrella that he'd bought from the hospital gift shop. When opened it formed a hexagonal shape made up of six triangles, each a different colour of the rainbow. It was the sort of the thing that Phil would use as a prop in a video, but at the moment it only served as a reminder that neither of them would be able to make videos for a while.

He turned back to Dan and whispered, “Sorry about all the bright colors. The shop didn't have any in black.” Silence followed, only broken by the sound of the steadily increasing downpour and thunder rumbling in the distance. “Just sit tight. I’ll come around to your side.”

Dan stayed put and waited for him to open the other passenger door. He took Phil’s outstretched hand and stepped under the giant, rainbow-coloured umbrella, but his gaze remained fixed on the rain-drench ground.

The journey up the forty-steps to their apartment was a long one.  Phil climbed slowly, staying close in case Dan needed to hold onto something for support. He sensed the other boy tense up in pain every other step, but he never reached out. That was until they approached the door and Phil fit the key in the lock when Dan suddenly clung to his arm as though he was afraid that someone else might be inside.

They spent what seemed like eternity standing in the hallway. Everything looked the same, but it didn’t feel the same as all the other times they had entered this apartment. The forensic equipment had been cleared away and the police tape had been taken down, but the place still felt more like a cleaned-up crime scene than home.

The first thing Phil though to do was turn on the lights. He walked quickly through the apartment switching on the bright ceiling lights as well a few lamps in the living room. Then he stopped in the kitchen to put away the massive quantity of pills the doctors had prescribed, pills to prevent infection, pill for pain, pills to help Dan sleep. Phil doubted that they had enough biscuits left in the cupboard for Dan to take them with, but he didn’t want to go to the shop to get more and leave Dan here. He was already anxious enough about leaving Dan in the hallway.

Phil went to hang up his coat, along with Dan’s dementor coat that had been left lying on the floor. Walking cautiously into the living room, he found the boy slumped against the sofa. He took a seat at the other end and spent a few minutes wondering fretfully whether he ought to inch closer. Dan’s arms were braced around his stomach again, and he kept his face turned toward the wall.

“Hey, Dan,” Phil murmured, breaking through the silent void, “can I get you anything? Do you need any more pain meds?”

When Dan spoke, his voice was rough and gravelly from disuse. “No, I’m… I’m fine.”

“Well, um, I can get started on dinner, and maybe we can put on a movie.”

Dan shook his head. “I know it’s early, but I’m…  I’m really tired, and I think I’d rather just.... go to sleep.”

The sounds of rumbling thunder and heavy rainfall filled the dimly lit room. It seemed like a cozy place to take a nap and weather the storm. Phil brought out the air mattress and a few spare sheets and made up a bed on the living room floor. While he was busy with that however, Dan had gone to the kitchen to take a sleeping pill.

Dan was still standing by the counter holding the pill in his hand when Phil stepped into the kitchen. Phil opened the cupboard and grabbed the half-empty bag of Waitrose cookies, but just as he rummaged one out of the bag, he turned and saw Dan clasp a hand over his mouth. The boy squeezed his eyes shut and shuddered, his throat muscles contracting as he swallowed the pill dry. He opened his eyes and stared blankly at Phil’s shocked expression.

Hands shaking, Phil reached for a glass and held it under the tap. “Here,” he said gently. “At least have some water.”

Dan barely took a sip before leaving the glass on the counter and going to lie down on the makeshift bed in the living room. Apparently he was determined to lose consciousness as soon as possible.

There hadn’t been any decent blankets in the hall closet, and so Phil went in search of something to keep Dan warm. He ventured down the dark hallway to get the grey and black checkered duvet from Dan’s bedroom, taking care not to look at his own bedroom door. Just walking near it made his stomach turn.

Phil laid down the duvet and crawled under the covers next to Dan. He kept a few inches of space between their bodies, even though at that moment he had never wanted so badly to snuggle up to Dan and put his arms around him. The one thing he could take comfort in was the fact that Dan habitually slept on the right side of the mattress, and he usually chose the left, which meant his own body was positioned like a shield between Dan and the doorway.

For a while Phil simply lay there and and listened to Dan breathing. Soon enough he felt the tension in his muscles ebb away as exhaustion took over. He closed his eyes and whispered, “Goodnight, Dan. I’ll keep you safe. I promise.”

 

***

 

_Hands. Hands burning his skin like coal. Hands pressing on his neck, his chest, his stomach. Hands prying his legs apart. Hot, putrid breath on his face. Cruel voices in his ears, echoing in his head, drowning out all thought. Pain pushing down on him, pushing inside of him._

_A harsh laugh. Cold metal against his temple._

_Please, just kill me._

Dan jolted awake. Breathing heavily, he stared wildly around the room looking for signs of an intruder. Outside the windows the sky was pitch black, but a lamp had been left on in the living room. Dan shivered and looked down. Phil was right there beside him, fast asleep.

Just a nightmare, then. Nothing to be afraid of. Dan tried to slow his breathing, but his heart was still pounding painfully hard. He closed his eyes. Just like that their faces appeared, looming over him, and he felt their hands. Everywhere.

Dan stumbled blindly out of the living room towards the bathroom door. He only managed to make it to the sink before he threw up. Acid stung his throat, and the room began to spin. There hadn’t been much in his stomach to begin with. He rested his forehead against the marble countertop and avoided looking in the mirror. He hadn’t seen his reflection since Friday afternoon, since before any of this happened.

Cold sweat had drenched his clothes making them cling to his trembling body. What Dan really needed right now was a shower, but the doctor had said that those were off limits for a few days because of his stitches. Still, he had to do something. There was a soft, clean flannel sitting by the tap as well as a bottle of lavender antiseptic hand soap. He peeled off his damp clothes and rubbed the warm, soapy washcloth delicately over his marred skin.

Looking down at his ravaged body, feeling a twinge of pain  every time the cloth made contact with a cut or a bruise, Dan knew he would never be free from this. Some marks would heal, some would fade, but his assailants had made sure to leave a permanent reminder of what they did to him. Dan pressed the washcloth over his stomach and held back a whimper as the wound stung. This was something he’d have to live with for the rest of his life… and Phil was going to have to live with it too.

In the living room, Phil awoke slowly from a fitful sleep and instinctively reached beside him. The moment he realized the other side of the bed was empty, he sat bolt upright and called Dan’s name. There was no answer.

Phil got up and crept towards  the bathroom door. There was a light on inside, and he could hear water running in the sink. He knocked on the door. “Dan?” he called, his voice edged with worry. “Dan, are you okay?”

He turned the handle and the door creaked open. Phil barely had a glimpse of Dan standing naked in front of the sink holding a washcloth over his stomach before the the boy gave a startled yelp and crouched down on the floor facing away from him.

“Get out!” Dan croaked weakly. The dark red streaks on his back stood out vividly against his pale skin, and he was trembling all over.

“Dan, I’m sorry, I just-” Phil stammered, “please, I just need to know you’re okay.”

“I MEAN IT, PHIL, GET THE FUCK AWAY FROM ME!”

Phil’s heart swiftly shattered into a thousand pieces as he backed away and shut the door. He slid down against the adjacent wall and tucked his knees up to his chest. Dan had never screamed at him like that. Of course they'd had a few arguments now and then and sometimes yelled stupid things that they didn’t mean. However, during those rare times when Dan was genuinely upset about something, Phil couldn’t really get him to open up about it unless they were both speaking calmly and rationally. It was one of those things that came with the baggage of growing up in a home where emotional outbursts were punished or ignored.

Ragged breathing and strangled sobs were audible through the bathroom door. Phil didn’t have to wonder what Dan was feeling now. He was hurting too much to hide it.  

Worn out from crying, Dan wiped the tear tracks off his face and rose unsteadily to his feet. Then as soon as he turned off the tap, he heard footsteps echoing down the hallway. _Oh God, I fucked up. I really fucked up._ He stood frozen in front of the mirror, still unable to look at himself, but about a minute later the footsteps returned briefly before retreating to the living room. Guilt twisting his insides, Dan hesitantly opened the door and found the clean pair of boxers and pajamas that Phil had left for him.

Dan took his time stuffing his sore limbs into the soft cotton pajamas and dreaded having to go back to the living room. When he finally did, he could see out his peripheral vision that Phil was perched nervously on the couch.  Dan trekked slowly back to the mattress and hid under the covers, all the words he wanted to say stuck in his throat.

He sensed movement on the mattress beside him, and suddenly the silence was too heavy to bear. “I’m sorry,” Dan whispered.

Phil's voice was tight and strained. “It’s okay.”

“No, it’s not. I shouldn’t have...I didn’t mean to scare you like that. I just didn’t-” Dan swallowed, his throat constricting. “I didn’t want you to see what they did to me.”

Phil brushed a hand gently over the covers, but he didn’t move them. Instead he took a deep breath and said, “Dan, can you please look at me? It’s not an order, just a request. I need to tell you something.”

It took a long time for Dan to resurface, but the older boy didn’t rush him. He pulled back the the duvet and stared past Phil's apprehensive face towards the wall. It hurt to much to look directly at him.

“When I found you-” Phil began.

“Oh God,” Dan breathed, hiding his face against the pillows.

“I’m sorry,” Phil whispered. “I’m sorry, but I really need to tell you this. Please.”

Bracing himself, Dan looked up and met his gaze.

Phil began again slowly, a slight tremor in his voice. “When I found you, your eyes were open, and I thought,” he gulped and struggled to get the words out, “I thought you were dead.” Those wide blue eyes searched Dan’s face, taking in everything. “You have to understand, it kills me to see you like this, to see you hurt this badly, but I can’t t help looking at you every chance I get, because I’m so grateful that you’re still here.”

In response, Dan simply inched closer and let Phil under the covers with him. He couldn’t say what he was thinking out loud.

_Well, that makes one of us._


	7. Chapter 7

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> Mood music: ["Fix You" by Coldplay](https://www.youtube.com/watch?v=aK3TROzVRiE)
> 
> This is a long one. The next few chapters should be shorter and hopefully less time-consuming.

The makeshift bed remained on the living room floor for the next few days, even after the storm had passed. Dan spent most of the time asleep. On the one hand, Phil knew that he would need lots of rest in order for his body to heal, but he also knew from experience that staying in bed all day was not good in terms of Dan’s mental state.

To say their week-long absence on social media would probably cause some concern was an understatement. Still, the constant stream of messages and notifications that had been accumulating on Phil’s phone since Sunday went unanswered. Their friends and coworkers were bound to be worried about them, and God only knows what their audience thought was happening. On Saturday night Phil decided it was time to talk to his brother.

Around nine o’clock in the evening there was a soft knock at the door. Phil had sat waiting on the stairs from the minute he sent the text to his brother inviting him over to talk. Taking a quick glance back at the living room to make sure that Dan was still asleep, Phil got up to answer the door, and in a matter of seconds he found himself wrapped in a tight embrace.

When it came to having a proper Lester hug, hanging on for dear life was a general requirement. Martyn could probably tell, though, from the way his younger brother clung to him that this time was different.

“It’s okay,” Martyn whispered. “It’s all gonna be okay.”

He rubbed soothing circles in Phil’s back, but the boy was trembling now. Without breaking their embrace, Martyn edged towards the stairs and helped Phil ease down onto the bottom step.  

Phil took a few deep breaths and rubbed his eyes. It was a minute or so before he was able speak. “Sorry, I,” he muttered, swallowing back tears. “I really needed that.”

“It’s fine,” Martyn reassured him. “Whatever you need, I’m here.” He rested a hand gently on Phil’s shoulder, but Phil still seemed somewhat closed off. “How is he doing?”

“He’s asleep right now,” Phil said in a hushed voice. His hands twisted anxiously in his lap. “I don’t think I can really explain everything that’s going on, but there’s something I need your help with.”

Hundreds of questions were jostling in Martyn’s head, but he put them aside and said, “Yeah, of course. Just tell me what I need to do.”

Phil sighed heavily. He seemed so tired. “I need you to post something on Twitter telling everyone that Dan and I are going to have to take a break from making videos on YouTube for a while because Dan is dealing with some...health problems.”

Martyn nodded. “Okay… um… any idea how long that will be?”

“I guess just call it a brief hiatus so that people don’t panic.”

It was likely that people were going to panic regardless of how he put it, but Martyn pressed on. “Okay. I should probably email the agency as well to let them know what’s going on, and I can make a few calls to cancel any other business stuff you guys had lined up.”

“There’s also the radio show,” Phil said quietly. “Hopefully they can get someone to fill in for us for a little while.”

“Yeah, I’m sure they can manage that.” Martyn hesitated a moment before asking, “So this is temporary, right? I mean, he has a good chance of getting better, doesn’t he?”

Phil turned to look at him. Something in those wide blue eyes reminded Martyn of when they were kids, when his little brother was lost and scared and running to him for help. Then Phil said the last thing he expected to hear.

“He’s not sick.”

Martyn’s brow furrowed. “What do you mean? What’s wrong, then?” Confusion and worry swirled like fog in his mind as Phil clasped a hand over his mouth and shook his head. “Phil, you’re scaring me. Just tell me, please. What’s going on?”

“I can’t,” Phil whimpered. “I don’t think I could even say it if I tried. It’s all just too horrible, I still can’t believe something like this could happen-”

“Alright, I’m sorry,” Martyn said hurriedly, rushing to calm Phil by rubbing his back some more. “It’s alright. We don’t have to talk about it right now.”

Phil closed his eyes and tried to breathe normally. “I’m sorry to put all this on you. I just…  I know people are going to have a lot of questions that I won’t be able to answer, and I’m just not equipped to deal with that.”

“It’s fine. I’ll figure out a way to handle the business side of things. Don’t worry about anything else right now, okay? Just focus on taking care of Dan.”

They sat in silence on the stairs for a while. It was getting late, and Martyn had his work cut out for him now. Still, he sensed it wasn’t quite time to leave yet, and so he simply waited with an arm around his younger brother’s shoulders until Phil spoke again.

“I really wish I knew how to handle this on my own. Usually it’s Dan who deals with this sort of thing.” Phil stared off in the distance, lost in thought. “Weirdly enough he actually tried to teach me how to be better at lying, you know, back when he was having to do a lot of that, but I didn’t really get much practice. Even though I was the one who basically poured my heart out on camera everyone lobbed their questions at him. Most people just tended to fixate on Dan, which is fine, I guess, but I… I never realized how dangerous that could be.”

Even though Phil was in the process recalling memories from the past, Martyn had an unsettling feeling that his last statement had more to do with the present.

Phil sighed and massaged his eyelids. “Anyways, he told me the trick to lying was that you had to let part of yourself believe it, to sort of compartmentalize reality in your head like an actor getting into character.” Phil smiled to himself for a moment. “It’s no wonder he’s always been good at that.” Then the smile quickly faded.

“I don’t know why, but sometimes Dan has a tendency to let other people’s lies affect him. The things people said back then made him miserable, about how we weren’t as close anymore, or that he was hurting me, and I constantly had to remind him that he was protecting me, that he was protecting both of us. It drove him mad seeing himself through other people’s eyes when everyone saw the worst in him. The only thing I could do was to try to get him to see himself through mine. That was my way of protecting us both, by holding onto the truth, and if he ever needed to, he could always find it,” Phil said quietly, holding a hand over his chest, “right here.” He sighed deeply again. “I dunno, does that sound stupid?”

Martyn shook his head. “No, not at all. That makes perfect sense. It just seems like a lot to carry around with you.” With a bit of trepidation, he tried asking one more time, “So what’s the truth now?”

Phil slowly turned and looked back up the stairs towards the living room. Then he gulped slightly and answered, “The truth is Dan’s hurt. It wasn’t…an accident. Someone hurt him, deliberately, and I wasn’t there to protect him.” Phil hunched his shoulders, his head hung low. “I’ve been trying to take care of him, but I don’t know how. Before whenever Dan was scared or in pain I could just hold him, but now I’m worried that anything I do to try to comfort him will only make it worse, and I don’t,” Phil’s voice trembled and broke, “I don’t want him to be scared of me.”

Martyn felt a cold surge of dread as realization dawned on him. “Phil,” he said quietly, “was Dan raped?”

Immediately Phil flinched, his whole body tensing up. He couldn’t help it. It was as though he’d never realized before just how ugly and awful and _wrong_ that word sounded. Maybe because he never thought he’d have to hear it in this context.

Before he could even look at Martyn again, Phil knew that his reaction had given away the answer.  

“Oh my God,” Martyn murmured through the hand clasped over his mouth. “Is he okay? I mean… _Jesus._ Did you talk to the police?”

“Yeah,” Phil said in a hollow voice. “They did a… kit… at the hospital.”

“Oh God,” Martyn uttered again, still reeling from shock. “I can’t believe- who would’ve-”

Phil reached out and grabbed Martyn’s shoulder to get his attention back. “Please, just promise you won’t say anything.”  

“Yeah, of course,” Martyn said emphatically. “You can trust me.”

“I mean don’t say anything to Dan. He hasn’t even told his parents yet, but it really ought to be his decision when he’s ready to talk about it.”

Martyn sighed and nodded. “You’re probably right.” He checked the time on his watch and got to his feet. “I should probably get going.”

Phil stood up and hugged Martyn tightly once more time before he left, but his big brother had one last thing to say.

“Listen, I know you. Ever since we were kids you’ve had this incredible sense of empathy. You were like a lightning rod taking in other people’s emotions, and if you saw anyone who was sad or scared or in pain you’d do anything you could think of to make them feel better. When it’s something this bad, though, watching a loved one go through it is hard for anyone, especially for someone like you, because there’s nothing you can do to make it all better. The truth of the matter is you can’t take the pain away, but you can help him survive it.”

 

***

 

Dan slowly stirred awake, his whole body tensing as soon as he opened his eyes. It still took a few moments in the morning to adjust to his surroundings due to the new sleeping arrangements. Of course, remembering why he’d slept on the living room floor instead of Phil’s bed made him feel much worse than before. What was most unusual this morning, however, was the fact that he was alone. The space next to him on the mattress was cold. Phil had barely left Dan’s side for a week.

He lay very still and listened for the sound of footsteps. The apartment was silent. Somehow that made him more afraid, made it harder to stop his mind from racing.

A sudden loud thud resonated from the kitchen. Was it them? Had they come back?  Dan froze, hardly daring to breathe. Where was Phil? What had they done with him? 

Dan’s heart hammered in his chest, demanding oxygen. He struggled for air and instinctively called out, “Phil!” 

There was more commotion in the kitchen. Then the living room door swung open and Phil appeared in his Star Wars pajamas. Dan just stared at him wide-eyed and tried to get his breathing under control. 

“Hey, I’m here,” Phil said hurriedly, his face lined with worry. “You alright, Dan?” 

Phil drew closer and sunk down onto the carpet next to the mattress. Still unsure about how much physical contact would be welcome, Phil had restricted himself to hand-holding for the time being. He slowly reached for the clenched hand peeking out from under the blankets and clasped it carefully between his own. This seemed to help Dan calm down a bit.

“I’m fine,” Dan murmured. “Just a little disoriented.” He felt slightly ashamed about getting worked up like that for no reason. 

“Sorry if I woke you,” Phil said softly. “I was working on… well it was supposed to be a surprise. It’s gonna take a few more minutes. Just try to rest a little while longer.” 

He pressed a couple of light kisses against Dan’s knuckles and got up to return to the kitchen. After he disappeared, Dan let out a long breath and gazed up at the ceiling. He heard the sound of drawers sliding open and closed, the clink of a spoon against glass mixing bowls, the crackle of the stove being ignited. It wasn’t difficult to figure out. Phil was making breakfast. Dan rolled over onto his stomach and pulled the covers over his head. There was an empty ache gnawing at his insides, but it didn’t feel like hunger. 

Time ticked by slowly, but soon enough Phil was back carrying two plates. He pulled out two chairs at the dining table and dashed back to the kitchen briefly to get maple syrup. Dan sat down and looked at the plate in front of him. Phil had made pancakes, thick, fluffy, American-style pancakes. 

With the syrup bottle tucked under one arm, Phil returned carrying two mugs. “I made tea,” Phil said tentatively, noticing that Dan was staring blankly at his plate. He looked rather pale. “Or would you prefer coffee or milk or orange juice?”

“No, tea is fine.” Dan reached for the syrup bottle and poured on a generous amount. Phil seemed to relax at this and followed suit. Then he dug in with his silverware like he was famished. As Dan picked up his silverware, however, his hands began to shake.

Dan glanced over at Phil and saw him watching expectantly. He looked so hopeful. _I can’t tell him. I have to just try to act normal._  

He sliced through the edge of the pancake and tried to gulp down a few spongey lumps of deep fried bread and sugar. After the first bite, though, his throat constricted and he started to feel nauseous. On his third attempt he started choking.

As soon as he heard Dan cough, Phil jumped up immediately and rushed to his side. “Dan. Are you okay?” He saw tears running down Dan’s face. “What’s wrong?”

The boy winced and swallowed hard. “I’m sorry,” Dan said, struggling to breathe. “I’m sorry, I can’t.” 

“It’s alright,” Phil said earnestly. “You don’t have to eat this. It’s alright.” He pushed Dan’s mug toward him and urged him to drink. Even after managing to clear his airway, though, Dan was still pale and shaking. “Here, come on. Let’s go sit down.” 

Dan wiped his face on his sleeve as he moved to get up from the table. “I’m sorry,” he murmured again.

“It’s okay, Dan. You haven’t done anything wrong.”

Phil guided Dan across the living room and settled next to him on the sofa. “Would you mind if I check…?” Phil asked as he tentatively raised a hand to feel Dan’s forehead to see if he had a fever. The other boy sat still and allowed the contact. He felt a bit warm, but not feverish. “Is your stomach bothering you? It might be the medication.” Dan silently shook his head. “What's going on, then? Do I need to call a doctor?” 

After a long pause, Dan said in a low voice. “I can’t eat.” 

“What do you mean?”

Dan hunched in on himself and closed his eyes. “Whenever I try to eat I just feel… I feel like something’s being forced inside of me. Something I don’t want.”

At those words Phil’s heart plummeted about fifty feet. He had no idea what emotions he was conveying, but whatever it was, Dan took a quick glance at him and said, “Please don’t look at me like that.”

No matter how hard he tried, he was just making it worse. 

At a loss for what to do, Phil rose on unsteady legs and went to clear the table. He carried the plates into the kitchen and tossed their uneaten pancakes into the garbage. He didn't notice how badly his hands were shaking until he took a few steps toward the sink, and just like that, the plates slipped out of his hands and smashed on the floor. 

“Oh God,” Phil whimpered, “Oh God, oh God, oh God.”

He sank down to the floor amidst the broken pieces and backed up against the cabinets. His head was still ringing from the sound of smashing dishes. Phil pressed his hands over his ears and tried to block out all sound. In spite of this, he heard the sound of footsteps approaching the kitchen, and then the sound of Dan calling his name. 

“Phil?” 

Lowering his hands, Phil looked up and saw Dan standing in the doorway. His face was stark white, his dark brown eyes wide with shock. 

“Sorry,” Phil murmured faintly. “I’ll get this cleaned up.” He was slightly embarrassed to be huddled on the floor like this. When he tried to stand, however, Dan raised both hands to stop him.

“Don’t move,” Dan said urgently, “You’re shaking too much. You might get cut by the glass. Let me do it.” 

“But I should-” 

“It’s fine. I’ll get it. Just stay put.”

Dan carefully tip-toed towards the pantry in bare feet to get the dustpan. Phil watched nervously as Dan swept up all the jagged pieces, but he managed to complete the task without harming himself. He emptied the shards into the bin, then scanned the floor again to make sure he got them all, to makes sure Phil was safe. At least some things hadn’t changed.

“You didn’t have to that,” Phil said quietly.

Dan shrugged and slid down next to him on the floor. “It was least I could do, really, since it was mostly my fault.” 

Phil turned his head to look at him so quickly it’s surprising he didn’t get whiplash. “No, it wasn’t.” He gazed intently at Dan, willing him to form some telepathic connection so he could make him understand. “Listen to me. What you went through and what you’re going through now, none of that is in any way your fault.” 

“Yeah, I know,” the boy said quietly, though Phil couldn’t quite tell if Dan believed it.

“Secondly, I need you to know that nothing’s changed about how I see you. No matter what happens, I swear, I’m not going to look at you any differently.”

Dan exhaled slowly and nodded to let Phil know he heard him, though it seemed he wasn’t ready to talk about this stuff yet, because he quickly changed the subject. “Anyways, it’s a shame those pancakes had to go to waste. I know you worked hard on them.”

“That’s not what I was upset about,” Phil mumbled, shaking his head. “I just got really my hopes up that there was something I could do to help you feel better. Then that plan failed miserably.” 

“Well, knowing you, you’re just going to keep trying, aren’t you?” 

Phil gave him a small, gentle smile. “Yeah, I guess so.”

Dan let Phil help him up off the floor, and they went back to the living room. As a way of getting back some of their old routine, Phil turned on the TV, and they settled on the couch to watch a few episodes of anime. Then halfway through an episode of _Free!_ Phil paused the show and leapt up from the couch. 

“I have an idea,” Phil said, his face alight with excitement. Dan gazed up at him, bewildered. “Just… don’t judge me.”

The look he got from Dan, half-fond, half-exasperated, was a shadow of what it used to be, but it still lifted Phil’s heart to see it.

Phil walked over to the bookcase and reached behind a Totoro plushie to reveal a bag of mini marshmallows. “I thought these might be good to snack on because they’re small and easy to chew.” 

Trying to keep a neutral expression, he eased back down onto the sofa and offered the bag to Dan. The boy hesitantly reached into the bag and took one, then tossed it back like a pill and swallowed. Well, it was something.

“So we’re having marshmallows for breakfast?” Dan quipped, sprinkling a few more into his hand before passing the bag back over to Phil.

“Apparently,” Phil responded. He took small handful and hoped that Dan would finish most of the bag. “For lunch I can try making soup.” 

“Okay.”

Phil pressed play on the remote, and they continued watching anime in silence for the next hour or so. After a while Dan ended up laying his head on the armrest out of exhaustion. Still, he left his hand open for Phil to hold, and so Phil took it and interlocked their fingers. 

There was a long dark road ahead of them, but maybe, just maybe, they were going to make it.  


	8. Chapter 8

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> Mood music: ["Cold Cold Cold" by Cage the Elephant](https://www.youtube.com/watch?v=TNTkpTSLdPk)

Phil hoped it was true what people said about how things usually get worse before they get better, because things had certainly gotten much worse. 

Dan was sleeping in his own bedroom now. He’d taken his monochrome comforter with him and kept the door closed at night. Dan’s room was where both of them usually slept when either of them wasn’t in the mood for sex, but Dan had never wanted to sleep alone before. 

Phil continued sleeping in the living room. He only ventured to his own bedroom to get clothes after he’d washed and re-worn everything in his suitcase, which he still hadn’t properly unpacked. The room had been professionally cleaned, the mattress and bedding replaced, but he still couldn’t go in there without getting a cold, sickening feeling in his stomach. It was as though the room was haunted. 

The strangest thing was, even though Phil was sure the last video that he and Dan had filmed was in the gaming room, all of their video equipment was set up next to his bed.

During the day it was difficult to lure Dan out of his hiding place and move around the rest of the flat. At times Dan seemed restless and anxious and was easily startled, but most of the time it was as though he was completely drained of energy. Even when he was sitting on the sofa with Phil watching TV or watching Phil play video games, he had trouble concentrating and would often just zone out. 

Despite Phil’s efforts to keep Dan alive on soup and tea and mini marshmallows, it was easy to tell that Dan was losing weight. Each passing day his bones became more and more visible, his pale skin stretched taut over them like canvas. According to Phil’s internet research about post-traumatic stress, long-term exposure to elevated stress hormones like cortisol could cause muscles to deteriorate, and so it was likely that he was losing muscle as well.

Amongst other things Phil began to miss the sound of Dan’s voice. A murmured “yes” or “no” or “I’m fine” were the only words Phil ever heard from him. The remains of Dan’s smashed phone had been taken into evidence by the police. Phil ordered a new one online, but as soon as it arrived, Dan turned the ringer to silent. 

Suspended in a barely tolerable purgatory, it was only a matter of time before it all went to hell. 

One evening a few weeks after his talk with Martyn, Phil was sitting hunched over on the sofa checking his email. There were several emails from their managers and the producers at the radio show granting their request for a medical leave of absence and expressing well-wishes for Dan’s recovery. Phil supposed it would be a good idea to send a brief reply to each of them and say thank you. He opened a Word document and sat there for a few minutes trying to piece together an appropriate response. Before he could start typing, however, the blue skype logo lit up his screen. 

Phil’s fingers hovered tentatively over the trackpad before pressing down and accepting the call. It was Louise.

“Hello, love,” Louise’s voice chimed as she popped into view on the computer screen. 

“Um… hi,” Phil responded. He was torn between excitement and nervousness. In all honesty it was wonderful to see a friendly face, but at the same time he had no idea what to say, or how much he could say without raising suspicion. “So… how’s it going? What are you up to?”

“Well, tonight I’m having a little dinner party with a few friends.” She was dressed up with her hair and makeup expertly done, and judging from the chatter drifting from her dining room she already had company over. “Anyways, I’ve missed seeing my two favorite boys and so I just wanted to call to say hi and that I’m thinking about you.”

“We’ve missed you too.” Even as Phil smiled, his eyes got a bit watery. He quickly reached up to dry his face with his sleeve, but Louise noticed.

“You alright Phil?”

“Yeah, I’m fine. Just a bit tired.”

Louise still looked concerned. “How is Dan doing?”

Before Phil could muster up the courage to lie, a few more faces appeared on the screen. Zoey, Hazel, Joe and Caspar gathered around Louise’s laptop all smiling and waving. Phil put on a brave face and waved back. 

Joe leaned closer to the screen and said, “Hey, is Dan nearby?”

“We’d like to say hello to him too,” Zoey chimed in, “if he’s feeling up to it.”

Phil wasn’t sure he would be, but then a thought occurred to him that maybe virtual interaction would be a bit easier for him than talking to their friends in person. “He’s resting right now, but maybe…”

A soft creak of slow footsteps echoed in the hall. Phil guessed that Dan had gotten up to take a shower. He’d been doing that far too often lately. Maybe it would be good to offer him a distraction.

“Hey, Dan,” Phil called, “I’ve got a few friends here that want to say hi.”

Dan’s footsteps stopped abruptly. “What do you mean?” His vocal chords sounded rusty from disuse. 

“It’s alright. They’re on a skype call.” 

The boy cautiously peeked into the living room. Phil patted the seat next to him on the couch, but Dan shook his head. “I probably look like a mess. My hair is all disheveled and I’m in my pajamas.”

“So am I,” Phil said gently. “It’s fine.” He turned the laptop towards Dan let him see all the smiling faces of people eager to talk to him. Dan said a timid hello and waved at the screen.

“Hello, love,” Louise said, greeting Dan the same way she had greeted Phil, though this time with a more motherly tone. “How are you feeling?”

“Not too bad,” Dan answered, his voice raspy and high pitched. “I’ve just been sleeping a lot.”

Phil twisted around to look at the screen as the others chatted on about how much they all missed the two of them and about how many messages they’d gotten from worried twitter fans wanting to know that they were okay. Then he glanced up at Dan and realized something was wrong. He was staring wide-eyed at the small square in the bottom left corner of the screen. He looked scared.

“Dan?” Phil said quietly. “You okay?”

The boy didn’t respond. His eyes remained fixed on the computer screen. Their friends’ voices trailed away, and then the room was silent apart from Dan’s quick and shallow breathing. A trickle of blood streamed from Dan’s nose and dripped onto the carpet. 

“Dan!”

Phil quickly shoved the laptop aside and sprang up from the sofa. As soon as he tried to get closer Dan backed away, retreating into the hallway. The boy collapsed against the wall and curled up in a ball on the floor still gasping for air. Phil rushed over and knelt down beside him. 

“Dan, it’s okay. It’s me,” he cried desperately. “Please, just let me help you.”

Dan whimpered and hid his face against the wall. Phil had to fight against the overwhelming instinct to wrap his arms around Dan and hold on for dear life. If this was a panic attack, that was probably the least helpful thing to do right now.

Trying to think fast, Phil dashed to the kitchen and soaked a clean washcloth in warm water. He ran back to find Dan pale and shaking, the hand over his mouth drenched in blood. Phil nudged his hand out of the way and clamped the washcloth over his nose. Dan’s gasps became loud and panicked, He must have felt like someone was suffocating him, but he didn’t try to push it away. The boy’s arms remained rigid, pulled tight against his torso, as though that was the only way left to protect himself.

“Dan,” Phil said urgently, his voice wavering, “If you can hear me, it’s Phil. I’m…I’m trying to stop the bleeding. I need you to hold this in place and keep pressure on it.”

With as little force as possible, Phil grabbed hold of Dan’s bloodied hand and pressed it over the washcloth. Then he let go and drew back to give him space. 

After a few tense seconds passed, Dan tightened his grip on the washcloth applied pressure. The tension in his body gradually eased and his breathing slowed. Then he uncovered his mouth and stared down numbly at the sight of his own blood. Dan’s eyes were no longer wide and frightened but simply vacant. 

Without turning to look at him, Dan called out in a small voice, “Phil?”

“I’m here,” Phil answered. “It’s okay. You’re okay.” The bleeding stopped, but Dan’s face and hands were still covered in dried blood. “Do you remember what happened?”

“Not really,” Dan muttered. He clenched his fingers tightly around the washcloth to stop them from trembling. “Were we… talking to someone?”

Phil glanced back at the living room where his laptop was still sitting open. The screen was blank. Louise must have ended the call. “We were talking to Louise on Skype.”

“Oh God.” Dan squeezed his eyes shut. “Did they see…did they see me-”

“It’s alright,” Phil said quickly. “Don’t worry about that. I’ll handle it. Just go lie down and try to relax.”

Dan nodded silently and shakily pushed himself up off the floor. Phil reached out to help him stand up, and Dan held onto him briefly for support, though he still avoided eye-contact. Then he turned and shuffled down the hallway back to his room, shoulders tensed, one hand gripping his other arm and braced over his stomach. 

Phil heated up a mug of tea in the microwave. He didn’t want the loud screech of a kettle to heighten Dan’s nerves. When he brought the tea to Dan’s room, the boy was lying on top of the covers staring blankly at the wall. 

“I made you some tea,” he said quietly, placing the mug on the nightstand. “It probably needs to cool down a bit.”

“Thanks,” Dan murmured. He reached over and laid the bloodstained washcloth down next to the mug. 

“Is there anything else I can get for you?”

Before he could wait for a response, Phil’s phone rang. He stepped out into the hallway to see who it was. Louise’s name flashed on the screen. 

“Phil?” Louise’s strained whisper echoed on the other end when he picked up. “Is Dan okay?”

“Yeah, he’s okay now,” Phil said, reassuring her. “He’s just resting.”

“What the hell happened?”

Phil sighed heavily, “Honestly Louise, I’m not really sure. This is something we need to talk to a doctor about.”

There was a long pause. Phil waited apprehensively, hoping that she wouldn’t hound him with a bunch of questions that he couldn’t answer. Finally, Louise said, “You would tell us if this was really serious, right? Like if he was dying?”

Phil glanced through Dan’s doorway. In one of the articles he’d read about PTSD, the author had said something along the lines of, “this illness crushes the life out of those who suffer from it.” He wasn’t sure how figurative or literal that statement was supposed to be.

“He’s not,” Phil said firmly. “I promise, Louise, he’s not dying.”

“There’s something you’re not telling me. I can feel it.”

“You know if we could tell anyone anything, we’d tell you first. Dan just needs some time to get better, but he’s… he’s getting better, okay?”

“Okay,” Louise responded, sounding resigned. “I’ll let you go so you can look after him. I love you both very much. Be sure to tell him that.”

“Alright, I will,” Phil murmured, his throat tightening. “Love you too.”

After hanging up Phil went to the living room to grab a blanket from the sofa and brought it to Dan’s room. The boy was lying quite still with his eyes closed, and Phil assumed that he had fallen asleep. When he laid the blanket over him, though, he heard Dan mutter quietly, “You’re starting to improve.”

“At what?” Phil asked, bewildered.

“Lying.”

Phil eased himself down onto the edge of the bed and rubbed his eyelids. “I meant what I said about needing to talk to a doctor.” He pulled out his phone. “The hospital gave us a referral for a therapist. I have her contact information saved in my phone. All we have to do is call her office and make an appointment.”

Dan’s eyes fluttered open, but he kept staring straight ahead. “I can’t.”

“Why not?”

“Realistically I probably should have started seeing a therapist years ago, but I just couldn't ever go through with it. When I was growing up I never felt like I had the option of telling an adult when I was feeling bad. The only thing I could do was hide it, and now if I even try to explain my issues to a professional, all it does is make me feel like a sad, scared little kid.”

Those words made Phil’s heart ache. It took a few minutes before he was able to speak again. “Maybe,” Phil said, clearing his throat, “if you tell her that she might be able to help you with that too.”

Dan didn’t try to argue. He simply closed his eyes and turned over onto his other side. The last thing Phil wanted to do was to try to make Dan do something he didn’t want to, but if he didn’t get help soon, he was only going get worse.


	9. Chapter 9

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> Mood music: ["Street Spirit" by Radiohead](https://vimeo.com/283920817)
> 
> Sorry I couldn't find a good Youtube video for this one. If you need a username and password to sign in, my username is amaleniter24@gmail.com and I changed the password to llamalamp24.
> 
> Anyways, this was a difficult chapter to write because my mental health wasn't doing so great for a while, but I am doing much better now that I'm trying a new antidepressant. As I said before, the mental health issues that I'm writing about are mostly based on my own, but their are some similarities between the fictional things I'm writing and real life. For example, I have depersonalization disorder, and the occasional existential crisis is a symptom of that, but 1) I am in no way qualified to diagnose anyone, and 2) I sincerely hope the real Dan doesn't have the same thing I do because it really sucks. It's just easier for me to write the story with a character who has similar issues to mine because depersonalization disorder affects the way that I process trauma, and so that might help make the other parts of the story make more sense.

Tunnel vision. Those were the words Dan had once used to describe to Phil how he felt on black hole days. It was like his mind’s eye had tunnel vision, like he’d forgotten how wide the world is, how full of life it can be, and he couldn’t see beyond the bleak concrete prison in his head. He’d been here plenty of times, but it had never been this bad before.

Dan hardly knew what to do with himself most of the time. It used to be such a relief to be able to take a break from work, to not have to go anywhere or do anything. What was different now, though, was that couldn’t go anywhere, and he couldn’t do anything. He was trapped. Trapped in the apartment, trapped in his room, trapped in this body, this body that no longer felt like his own.

Whether he was asleep or awake, he couldn’t escape the memories, their voices in his ears, their hands on his skin, marking him, hurting him, using his body like a worthless plaything. It was as though still being held captive, like they had never left.

Of course, Phil was there now too. Amidst the constant nightmares and flashbacks, in the dead of night when Dan woke up screaming, a soft, gentle voice and delicate hands reached to him through the darkness. Phil’s calming presence had always been something Dan took refuge in when he wanted to hide from the rest of the world. Now that he needed that more than ever, though, he found himself trying to stay hidden from Phil. Not out of fear, but out of shame.

As the long, empty hours of countless days passed, Dan got the sense that Phil was waiting for something. For things to get better, for life to go back to the way it was, for Dan to finally open up and talk about what happened to him. Dan wondered how long it would be until Phil was tired of waiting.

The London air grew warmer at the start of April, though the ever-present veil of clouds still blocked out the sun. When he couldn’t stand to be in his bed, Dan sat in the shadowy corner beside his desk beneath the darkened window. The first few times Phil found him there, he brought Dan a blanket and a mug of tea and then stepped away to give the boy some space. Then one cold morning, after Dan’s hunched, shivering form was enveloped in a thick layer of soft wool, he heard Phil ask a question.

“So, um, is this the new existential crisis position?”

Dan blinked and swallowed hard, willing his voice box to work. “Sort of. Lying face down on the carpet doesn’t really feel safe anymore.”

Out of the corner of his he saw Phil’s hands fidgeting nervously. Then after a pause the older boy sidestepped towards the window as eased down to the floor a few feet away from him. “How’s it working out so far? Contemplating any big life questions?”

“No, just… thinking.”

Dan hoped desperately that Phil wasn’t going to ask what he was thinking about. The answer to that question wasn’t a happy one. Instead, Phil responded, “I know you probably don’t feel like talking right now, but I’d still like to sit here with you for a while, if that’s okay.”

“Sure,” Dan muttered. It was typical for Phil to do this when Dan was having an existential crisis and lying immobilized on the floor. He’d come sit beside him to keep him company. Every time Dan insisted that he didn’t have to, that it must have been incredibly boring to have to babysit him like that, Phil assured him that he was perfectly content just to be with him.

Things weren’t that easy now. Sitting in comfortable silence simply wasn’t possible, not when there was so much Phil wanted to say but didn’t know how, and there was so much Dan knew he should tell Phil but couldn’t bring himself to. Inevitably, after sitting quietly for a few minutes, Phil spoke up again.

“I was always kind of impressed by long you could lie still and just think.” As he talked, Phil rested his chin on his knees in that endearing way he always did. “Though it did worry me sometimes. The longest one was about five hours, remember? After we decided to watch that Cosmos Space Time Odyssey show with Neil deGrasse Tyson?”

Dan squeezed his eyes shut. “That was a mistake.”

“Yeah,” Phil murmured, rubbing the back of his neck. “I probably should have tried to talk you out of watching that, but we both thought it looked interesting. You seemed okay during the first episode, even when that guy was talking about the massive scope of the universe. Then episode two…”

They’d had to stop watching halfway through the second episode. It started off with a scientific explanation of how natural selection causes variations in the physical attributes of different species based on which offers the best advantage for survival. Then the show went on to give an example. Polar bears.

Two bears were on the screen. A brown bear and a white bear. In a side by side comparison, it showed the two bears hunting for food. Due to the white bear’s fur color it had the advantage of camouflage, and so the white bear was able to bring food home to its cubs while the brown bear walked home with nothing. The brown bear looked so goddamn sad it made Dan feel sick.

After a few seconds of sitting there in horror, Dan screeched at Phil to turn it off. Slightly startled, the other boy grabbed the remote and switched off the TV as fast as he could. Phil asked if he was okay, but Dan barely heard him. He stood up from the sofa in a daze, stumbled into the hallway, and collapsed unceremoniously face down on the carpet.

The next five hours were a bit of a blur. When it starting getting late, Phil warmed up some Chinese takeaway in the microwave for dinner. He tried to get Dan to eat a few bites, but Dan only whimpered in response. Eventually Phi gave up and brought the boy a pillow and a blanket to help make him more comfortable. Then he laid down next to him on the floor for a while.

When Dan finally spoke an hour later, it was with the voice of drowning man. “I hate that despair exists. It’s sort of an anomaly, really. Reactions like fear and pain have a purpose. They’re survival mechanisms that warn us when we’re in danger to keep us from dying. When you experience too much fear and pain, though, you end up with this awful feeling that you’re not going to make it, and sometimes… it gets to the point that... you don’t want to make it.”

Sitting across from him under the window, Phil rubbed his eyes as he recalled the memory. “It scared the hell out of me when you said that,” he whispered in a hushed voice. “I honestly didn’t know what to do. I got up and started pacing around trying to think of something that would help. Then I finally came up with an idea that was sort of ridiculous.”

The idea was a perfect example of Phil’s imagination at work. It would have been better if he actually had any skill at drawing, but he gave it his best shot. He returned to the hallway with his hands covered in black and brown marker and showed Dan the picture that he drew. There was the brown bear and the smudged black outline of the white bear. The white bear had brought food to share with the brown bear and his family. They were mostly a bunch of misshapen blobs, but Phi had somehow managed to make them look happy. Miraculously enough, it made Dan smile.

“You didn’t make fun of me for it,” Phil said, still reminiscing. “You just lay there looking at it for a long time. Then you said something else. You said that love was also an anomaly, that it made sense from an evolutionary standpoint for biological creatures to form emotional bonds to help the species survive. Then it became something else. Having someone who cares about what happens to you, who is willing to do anything to help you keep living, it gives you the hope to believe that you can make it. We’re able to love because we need to be loved, but it turns out that love is the one thing that makes surviving all of this worthwhile.”

Dan tugged the blanket tighter around his thin frame. “Is there a point to this story?”

Phil leaned forward, gazing at him intently. “The point is that I know you’re not all doom and gloom up there. Your mind is an incredible thing. You just need help sorting things out sometimes.”

With a sinking feeling in his stomach, Dan looked away and stared out the window.

_You don’t want to know what’s going on inside my head._

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Cosmos: A Space Time Odyssey with Neil DeGrasse Tyson is an incredible show, but I wouldn't recommend it to people like me who are easily upset by sad-looking cartoon animals. Honestly, that one part of the show fucked me up so bad I couldn't watch the rest of the series.


	10. Chapter 10

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> Mood music: [”Can't Help Falling In Love” by Elvis Presley (Cover by Twenty One Pilots)](https://www.youtube.com/watch?v=r9HuRmTa41s)
> 
> Here's the scenes from 2009 that I promised in the tags.

The apartment was still and silent. All of the lamps were on, casting light against the dark window. Phil always made sure to leave them on during the new nightly routine of talking a short walk with Dan before bed. They couldn’t go outside, obviously, and so Phil led him from room to room, up the stairs to gaming room and down the stairs to the laundry room. Phil hoped this brief bit of exercise would help Dan get to sleep a little easier. Plus, lately it was the only time Dan would allow Phil to hold his hand.

They circled back to Dan’s room, and Phil gave the boy’s hand a gentle squeeze before letting go. Dan walked inside alone and sat on the edge of the bed while Phil hovered near the doorway.

Phil cleared his throat and said, “I washed the sheets earlier, so they still should be warm from the dryer.”

Dan murmured a small, “Thanks,” and crawled under the covers. He used to always wear only boxers in bed, but now he never changed out of the black sweatpants and oversized t-shirt that he wore all day. That is, he never changed in front of Phil.

Not daring to step any closer without permission, Phil leaned against the doorpost. “If you want, I could stay with you,” he said quietly. “Just until you fall asleep.” 

Even under the blankets, Phil could see Dan’s arms move to wrap themselves protectively around his stomach. “That’s okay,” Dan said in a tense, high-pitched voice, “I’ll be fine. Goodnight.” 

“Goodnight,” Phil whispered back, his heart stuck in his throat. 

 _Please don’t be scared of me._  

Phil set about the task of turning all the lights off in the apartment, though he left a lamp on in the living room where the air mattress still lay in the middle of the floor.  He’d covered the plastic, air-filled cushion with enough pillows and blankets to build a fort, but that didn’t make it any easier for him to get used to sleeping alone. Phil stared up at the ceiling for what felt like hours. Then after admitting defeat, he sat up and grabbed the box of tissues sitting on the coffee table so that he could do the one thing that would help his brain shut off.

To Phil’s knowledge, there was absolutely nothing sexy about masturbating for medical reasons.  Sure, it releases endorphins and helps lower the heart rate, but Phil wasn’t really in the mood. He couldn’t bring himself to indulge in any fantasies, not when the only person he wanted to fantasize about flinched at the slightest touch. Instead, he tried to keep his mind blank while his hand did all the work. After a few minutes of applying friction and stimulating thousands of nerve endings to send a signal to the hypothalamus so that it would release some feel-good chemicals, it was over.

Phil grabbed a Kleenex and cleaned himself off. Then he rolled over onto his side and hugged the nearest pillow to his chest as the endorphins faded away. It was painfully obvious that what Phil really missed, more than anything physical, was emotional intimacy, so much so that he found his muddled mind drifting back to when he and Dan first met.

_The anticipation Phil experienced every time he stood waiting at the train station for Dan to arrive was overwhelming. In the latter part of 2009, Dan braved the four-hour train to the north to come see him every other weekend. Phil wished that he didn’t live so far away. Texts and calls and talking on Skype made the distance somewhat bearable, but as soon as they came face to face again and Phil saw Dan’s wide brown eyes light up, he felt as if his feet had left the ground._

_Phil’s parents were usually out of town whenever Dan came to visit, and so they had the whole house to themselves. It was like they were newlyweds on a honeymoon, and they’d only just met. They stayed up late, had breakfast in the afternoon, played video games and watched movies, spent hours cuddling on the couch or in bed, and just enjoyed their own little world._

_At first Phil was relieved that Dan always made the first move when it came to kissing and fooling around. He wanted to be sure that Dan was comfortable with the pace they were moving at, which was honestly quite fast._ _The boy was incredibly skilled with his hands and his mouth, and he seemed so eager to please_. _However, after spending more time with him, Phil realized that sometimes it was really difficult to read Dan’s emotions, and that sometimes Dan kept them hidden, even from himself, when he was feeling anxious or overwhelmed. He was so young, so desperate to feel loved. Phil could only hope that no one had ever tried to take advantage of him._

_Around the start of December Dan came to stay while Phil’s parents were gone for a whole week. The sky grew darker earlier in the evening due to the cold Manchester winter, but streets were brightened by the warm glow of fairy lights. Phil watched them twinkle through his bedroom window and he said on his bed that first night waiting for Dan to come upstairs. Thankfully the heating was on as high as it would go, because he was completely naked, and he was already shivering from excitement and nerves. Then Dan walked through the door, and Phil simply melted._

_Dan stepped into the room looking a bit bashful and timid with his arms around his bare stomach. Phil knew Dan had a few insecurities about his body, particularly his soft, pillow-like torso, his narrow shoulders, and the curvy, “feminine” shape of his hips. Phil thought he was absolutely beautiful._

_After being struck speechless for a moment, Phil found his voice. “Could you, um, come sit down for a sec?” he asked, patting the space next to him on the bed. Dan hesitated, looking a little worried. “It’s okay,” Phil said gently. “I just want to talk.”_

_Dan shuffled awkwardly to the corner of the bed near the headboard and grabbed a blanket before sitting down. Covering himself up, he asked, “Have you changed your mind already?”_

_Phil reached down to grab a second blanket from the messy floor and laid it over his lap. Then he turned to face him and said, “Dan, you can believe me when I tell you that I really, really want to sleep with you tonight.” He smiled a little as the little rosy patch on Dan’s cheek turned bright red. “What’s even more important to me right now, though, is knowing exactly what it is that you want.”_

_“I want that too,” Dan said quickly. “I mean… um… I know it probably hurts a bit the first time, but I think I can take it."_

_"Oh God, Dan, no," Phil said emphatically, devastated by the thought of Dan worrying about that. “It doesn’t. It’s not supposed to hurt.”_

_The boy stared back at him looking more anxious than reassured, and so Phil tried to speak in a gentler tone._

_“First of all, you do have to be a little more careful the first time to make sure the other person is comfortable. If at any point you start feeling uneasy, or if you’re in any pain, I need you to tell me so we can stop. This is supposed to be about making each other feel good, and I can’t stand the thought of making you feel anything bad.”_

_Phil paused and searched Dan’s face to see if he understood. It was one of the sweetest, most heartbreaking things about Dan how he seemed so genuinely surprised when Phil treated him like his feelings mattered. He figured that the boy had gotten accustomed to blocking out his emotions due to all the times in the past that people treated him like he didn’t matter._

_“Secondly,” Phil went on, “consent is not just lying there and taking it. It’s telling the other person, ‘Yeah, I’m really excited for this too!’” He did a little hand gesture to convey excitement, and Dan giggled. “It’s normal to be a little nervous, but if you’re more nervous than excited, then you might not be ready for this, and that’s okay. If you want to stick to the stuff we’ve been doing, if you want to just cuddle, or if you don’t want to be touched at all, it’s fine. Just tell me what you want.”_

_It was a long while before Dan answered. “Is it,” he faltered, biting his lower lip, “is it okay if we just cuddle for a bit?”_

_Phil nodded. “Of course.”_

_Burrowed under the warmth of Phil’s comforter, Dan lay gazing back at Phil as he held the boy close, their naked bodies entwined together. Phil tentatively reached up to touch Dan's face, brushing the back of his fingers agains his soft skin and gently cupping his cheek. Then Dan took hold of his hand and pressed it against his chest. His heart was beating incredibly fast._

_“Don’t be scared,” Phil whispered._

_Dan smiled, his wide brown eyes shining in the low light. “I’m not scared,” he whispered. back. “I’m really, really happy.”_

Alone on the living room floor, Phil pressed his face against the pillow and cried himself to sleep.


End file.
